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A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


A STORY OF 


THE MODERN WEST. 



W 


1 


AUTHOR OF 

^-MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS," "JASON EDWARDS," "A MEMBER OF 
THE THIRD HOUSE," "A LITTLE NORSK," ETC. 


/ 


BOSTON, MASS. : 
AKEFJA Publishing Company, 
Copley Square. 




1 <? 92 . 






•^- 2-3 


Copyrighted by 
THE AUTHOR, 1892. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


I 







To William Dean Howells, the foremost historian 
of our common lives and the most vital figure in 
our literature, I dedicate this study of the great 
middle West, its contemporary life and landscape. 



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CONTENTS. 


I. The Grange Picnic, .... 1 

II. The Dinner under the Oak, . . .17 

III. Bradley resolves to go to School, . 26 

IV. Trials at School, . . . . .38 

V. Bradley rises to address the Carthaginians, 58 

VI. Bradley attends a Convention, ... 78 

VII. The Farmers oust the Ring, ... 87 

VIII. Bradley attacks IS'ettie's Fathei-, . . 95 

IX. Bradley meets Mrs. Brown, . , . 102 

X. A Country Polling Place, . . . .Ill 

XI. Studying with the Judge, . . . 122 

XII. The Judge advises Bradley, . . . 129 

XIII. Bradley sees Ida again, .... 136 

XIV. Bradley changes his Politics, . . . 158 

XV. Home again with the Judge, . . 169 

XVI. Xomination, 180 

XVII. Election, 195 

XVII I. Don’t blow out the Gas, .... 203 

XIX. Cargill takes Bradley in hand, . . 218 

XX. At the State House, 232 

XXI. Bradley and Cargill call on Ida, . ' . 242 

XXII. The Judge plans a New Campaign, . . 253 

XXIII. On to Washington,. .... 265 

XXIV. Radbourn shows Bradley about the Capital, 272 

XXV. Ida comes into his Life again, . . 289 

XXVI. Congressional Life, 296 

XXVII. Bradley’s long-cherished Hope vanishes, 306 

XXVIII. Spring Conventions, 314 

XXIX. Bradley discouraged 327 

XXX. The Great Round-up at Chiquita, . . 334 

XXXI. Ida shows Bradley the Way out, . . 355 

XXXII. Conclusion. Washington Again, . . 378 



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A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


A STORY OF THE MODERN WEST. 

BY HAMLIN GARLAND. 

1 . 

THE GRANGE PICNIC. 

Early in the cool hush of a June morning in 
the seventies, a curious vehicle left Farmer Coun- 
cill’s door, loaded with a merry group of young 
people. It was a huge omnibus, constructed out 
of a heavy farm wagon and a hay rack, and was 
drawn by six horses. The driver was CounciH’s 
hired man, Bradley Talcott. Council himself held 
between his vast knees the staff of a mighty flag 
in which they all took immense pride. The girls 
of the grange had made it for the day. 

Laughter and scraps of song and rude witti- 
cisms made the huge wagon a bouquet of smiling 
faces. Everybody laughed, except Bradley, who 
sat with intent eyes and steady lips, his sinewy 


2 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


brown hand holding the excited horses in place. 
This intentness and self-mastery lent a sort of 
majesty to his rough-hewn face. 

“Let ’em out a little, Brad,” said Councill. 
“We’re a little late.” 

Behind them came teams, before them were 
teams, along every lane of the beautiful upland 
prairie, teams were rolling rapidly, all toward the 
south. The day was perfect summer ; it made 
the heart of reticent Bradley Talcott ache with the 
beauty of it every time his thoughts went up to 
the blue sky. The larks, and bobolinks, and 
red-wings made every meadow riotous with song, 
and the ever-alert king-birds and flickers flew 
along from post to post as if to have a part in the 
celebration. 

On every side stretched fields of wheat, green 
as emerald and soft as velvet. Some of it was 
high enough already to ripple in the soft winds. 
The corn fields showed their yellow-green rows 
of timid shoots, and cattle on the pastures luxuri- 
ated in the fullness of the June grass ; the whole 
land was at its fairest and liberalest, and it 
seemed peculiarly fitting that the farmers should 
go on a picnic this day of all days. 

At the four corners below stood scores of other 
wagons, loaded to the rim with men, women and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


o 


children. Up and down the line rode Milton Jen- 
nings, the marshal of the day, exalted by the 
baton he held and the gay red sash looped across 
his shoulders. Everywhere were merry shouts, 
and far away at the head of the procession the 
Burr Oak band was playing. All waited for the 
flag whose beautiful folds flamed afar in the bright 
sunlight. 

Every member of the grange wore its quaint 
regalia, apron, sash, and pouch of white, orange, 
buff and red. Each grange was headed by ban- 
ners, worked in silk by the patient fingers of 
the women. Counting the banners there were 
three Granges there — Liberty Grange, Meadow 
Grange, and Burr Oak Grange at the lead with 
the band. The marshal of the leading grange 
came charging back along the line, riding mag- 
nificently his fiery little horse. 

“ Are we all ready } ” he shouted like a field 
officer. 

“ Yaas!” 

“ All ready, Tom ? ’’ 

“ Ready when you are,” came the fusillade of 
replies. 

He consulted a moment with Milton, the two 
horses prancing with unwonted excitement that 
transformed them into fiery chargers of romance. 


4 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


in the eyes of the boys and girls, just as the sash 
and baton transfigured Milton into something 
martial. 

“All ready there!” shouted the marshals with 
grandiloquent gestures of their be-ribboned rods, 
the band blared out again and the teams began 
to move toward the west. The men stood up to 
look ahead, while the boys in the back end of the 
wagons craned perilously over the edge of the 
box to see how long the line was. It seemed 
enormous to them, and their admiration of the 
marshals broke forth in shrill cries of primitive 
wildness. 

Many of the young fellows had hired at ruinous 
expense the carriages in which they sat with their 
girls, wearing a quiet air of aristocratic reserve 
which did not allow them to shout sarcasms at 
Milton, when his horse broke into a trot and 
jounced him up and down till his hat flew off. 
But mainly the young people were in huge bow- 
ered lumber wagons in wildly hilarious groups. 
The girls in their simple white dresses tied with 
blue ribbon at the waist, and the boys in their 
thick woolen suits which did all-round duty for 
best wear. 

As they moved off across the prairie toward 
the dim blue belt of timber which marked the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


5 


banks of Rock River, other processions joined 
them with banner, and bands, and choirs, all 
making a peaceful and significant parade, an 
army of reapers of grain, not reapers of men. 
Some came singing “John Brown,” or “Hail, 
Columbia.” Everywhere was a voiced excite- 
ment which told how tremendous the occasion 
seemed. In every wagon hid in cool deeps of 
fresh-cut grass, were unimaginable quantities of 
good things which the boys never for a moment 
forgot even in their great excitement. 

On the procession moved, with gay flags and 
flashing banners. The dust rolled up, the cattle 
stared across the fences, the colts ran snorting 
away, tails waving like flags, and unlucky toilers 
in the fields stopped to wave their hats and gaze 
wistfully till the caravan passed. The men 
shouted jovial words to them, and the boys 
waved their hats in ready sympathy. 

At ten o’clock they entered the magnificent 
grove of oaks, where a speaker’s stand had been 
erected, and where enterprising salesmen from 
Rock River had erected soda water and candy 
stands, with an eye to business. 

There was already a stupendous crowd, at least 
so it seemed to the farmers’ boys. Two or three 
bands were whanging away somewhere in the 


6 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


grove ; children were shouting and laughing, and 
boys were racing to and fro, playing ball or wrest- 
ling; babies were screaming, and the marshals 
were shouting directions to the entering teams, 
in voices that rang through the vaulted foliage 
with thrilling effect, and the harsh bray of 
the ice cream and candy sellers completed the 
confusion. 

Bradley’s skill as a horseman came out as he 
swung' into the narrpw winding road which led 
through threatening stumps into the heart of the 
wood past the speaker’s stand. Councill furled 
his great flag and trailed it over the heads of 
those behind, and Flora and Ceres, and all the 
other deities of the grange upheld the staff with 
smiling good-will. And so they drew up to the 
grand stand, the most imposing turn-out of the 
day. They sprang out and mingled with the 
merry crowd, while Bradley drove away. After 
he had taken care of the team he came back 
towards the grand stand and wandered about 
alone. He was not a native of the country and 
knev/ very few of the people. He stood about 
with a timid expression on his face that made 
him seem more awkward than he really was. He 
was tall, and strong, and graceful when not 
conscious of himself as he was now. He felt a 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


7 


little bitter at being ignored — that is, he felt it 
in a vague and wordless way. 

Lovers passed him in pairs, eating peanuts or 
hot candy which they bit off from a huge triangu- 
lar mass still hot from the kettle. He had never 
seen any candy just like that, and wondered if he 
had better try a piece. The speaking on the 
stand attracted and held his attention, however. 
Oratory always had a powerful attraction for him. 
He moved forward and stood leaning against a 
tree. 

Seats had been arranged in a semi-circle 
around the stand, on which the speakers of the 
day, the band, and the singers were already 
grouped. All around, leaning against the trees, 
twined in the branches of the oaks, or ranked 
against the railing, were the banners and mottoes 
of the various granges. No. lo, Liberty Grange, 
“Justice is our Plea.” Meadow Grange, “United 
We Stand, Divided We Fall.” Bethel Grange, 
“ P'raternity.” Other mottoes were “Through 
Difficulties to the Stars”; “Equal Rights to All, 
Special Privileges to None.” A small organ sat 
upon the stand surrounded with the singers. 
Milton, resplendent in his sash and his white vest 
and black coat, sat beside the organist Eileen, the 
daughter of Osmond Deering. 


8 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


The choir arose to sing, accompanied by the 
organ, and their voices rolled out under the 
vaulted aisles of foliage, with that thrilling, far- 
away effect of the singing voice in the midst of 
illimitable spaces. This was followed by prayer, 
and then Mr. Deering, the president, called upon 
everybody to join in singing the national anthem, 
after which he made the opening address. 

He spoke of the marvellous growth of the 
order, how it had sprung up from the soil at the 
need of the farmer; it was the first great move- 
ment of the farmer in history, and it was somey 
thing to be proud of. The farmer had been 
oppressed. He had been helpless and would con- 
tinue helpless till he asked and demanded his 
rights. After a dignified and earnest speech he 
said : — I will now introduce as the next speaker 
Mr. Isaac Hobkirk.” 

Mr. Hobkirk, a large man with a very bad 
voice, made a fiery speech. “Down with the 
middlemen,” he cried, and was applauded vigor- 
ously. “They are the blood-suckers that’s takin’ 
the life out of us farmers. What we want is to 
deal' right with the manufacturers, an’ cut off 
these white-handed fellers in Rock River who git 
all we raise. Speechifyin’ and picnickin’ is all 
well an’ good, but what we want is agents. We 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


^ 9 

want agents f’r machinery, wheat buyers, agents 
f’r groceries, that’s what we want ; that’s what 
we're here for ; that’s what the grange was got 
together for. Down with the middlemen ! ” 

This brought out vigorous applause and showed 
that a very large number agreed with him. Brad- 
ley sat silently through it all. It didn’t mean 
very much to him, and he wished they’d sing 
again. 

The chairman again came forward. “Napoleon 
said ‘Old men for counsel, but young men for 
war.’ But our young men have listened patiently 
to us old fellows for years, and mebbe they don’t 
think much of our counsel. I’m going to call on 
Milton Jennings, one of our rising young men.” 

Milton, a handsome young fellow with yellow 
hair and smiling lips, arose and came forward to 
the rail, feeling furtively in his coat-tail pocket to 
see that his handkerchief was all right. He was 
a student at the seminary, and was considered a 
fine young orator. This was his first attempt 
before so large an audience. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” he began after clear- 
ing his throat. “Brothers and sisters of the 
Order : I feel highly honored by the president by 
being thus called upon to address you. Old men 
for counsel is all right, if they counsel what we 


10 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


young men want, but I’m for war ; I’m for a fight 
in the interests of the farmer. Not merely a 
defensive warfare but an offensive warfare. 

*‘How.^ By the ballot. Mr. President, I know 
you don’t agree with me. I know it’s a rule of 
the Order to keep politics out of it, but I don’t 
know of a better place to discuss the interests of 
the farmer. It’s a mistake. We’ve got to unite 
at the ballot box ; what’s the use of our order if 
we don’t.? We must be represented at the State 
legislature, and we can’t do that unless we make 
the grange a political factor. 

“You may talk about legislative corruption, 
Mr. President, and about county rings, to come 
near home. (Cheers and cries, “ Now you’re get- 
ting at it,” “That’s right,” etc.) But the only 
way to get ’em out is to vote ’em out. (“That’s 
a fact.”) You m’say we can talk it over outside 
the order. Yes, but I tell you, Mr. President, 
the order’s the place for it. If it’s an educa- 
tional thing, then I say it ought to educate and 
educate in politics, Mr. President. 

“I tell you. I’m for war! Let’s go in to win! 
When the fall’s work is done, in fact, from this 
time on, Mr. President, the farmers of this coun- 
ty ought to organize for the campaign. Cut and 
dry our tickets, cut and dry our plans. If we 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


11 


begin early and work together we can strangle 
the anacondy that is crushing us, and the eagle of 
victory will perch on our banners on the third of 
November, and the blood-suckers trouble us no 
more forever.” 

With this remarkable peroration, spoken in a 
high monotonous key, after the fashion of the 
political orator, Milton sat down mopping his 
face, while his admirers cheered. 

The chairman, who had been nervously twist- 
ing in his chair, hastened to explain. 

“Fellow-Citizens: I’m not to be held respons- 
ible for anything anybody else speaks on this 
platform. I do not believe with our young 
brother. I think that politics will destroy the 
grange. To make it a debating school on polit- 
ical questions would bring discord and wrangling 
into it. I hope I shall never see the day. I now 
ask Brother Jennings to say a few words.” 

Mr. Jennings, a fat and jolly farmer, came to 
the front looking very hot. His collar had long 
since melted. 

“ I aint very much of a speech-maker, Mr. Pres- 
ident, brothers and sisters. Fact is, I sent my 
boy down to the seminary to learn how to talk, 
so’t I wouldn’t haf to. I guess he represents my 
idees purty well, though, all except this political 


12 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


idee. I don’t know about that. I aint quite 
made up my mind on that point. I guess I’d bet- 
ter leave the floor for somebody else.” 

“Glad you left the floor,” whispered Milton to 
his father as he sat down by his side. Milton 
was a merciless joker, especially upon his father. 

“We have with us to-day,” said the chairman, 
in the tone of one who announces the coming in 
of the dessert, “one of the most eloquent speak- 
ers in the State, one whose name all grangers 
know, our State lecturer. Miss Ida Wilbur.” 

The assembly rose to its feet with applause as 
a slender young woman stepped forth, and waited, 
with easy dignity to begin her speech. There 
was something significant in her manner, which 
was grave and dignified, and a splendid stillness 
fell upon the audience as she began in a clear, 
penetrating contralto : 

“Brothers and sisters in the Order: While I 
have been sitting here listening to your speakers, 
I have been looking at the mottoes on your ban- 
ners, and I have been trying to find out by those 
expressions what your conception of this move- 
ment is. I wonder whether its majesty appears 
to you as it docs to me.” She paused for an 
instant. “ We are in danger of losing sight of its 
larger meaning. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


13 


“Primarily, the object of the grange has been 
the education of the farmers. It has been a 
great social educator, and I am glad, my friends 
and neighbors, when I can look out upon such an 
assembly as this. I see in it the rise of the idea 
of union, and intelligent union ; but principally I 
see in it the meeting together of the farmers 
who live too much apart from the rest of the 
world. 

“I believe,” she cried with lifted hand, “I 
believe this is the greatest movement of the 
farmer in the history of the world. It is a move- 
ment against unjust discrimination, no doubt, but 
it has another side to me, a poetic side, I call it. 
The farmer is a free citizen of a great republic, it 
is true ; but he is a Solitary free citizen. He 
lives alone too much. He meets his fellow-men 
too little. His dull life, his hard work, make it 
almost impossible to keep his better nature upper- 
most. The work of the grange is a social work.” 
She was supported by generous applause. 

“ It is not to antagonize town and country. 
The work of the grange to me is not political. 
Keep politics out of it, or it will destroy you. 
Use it to bring yourselves together. Let it fur- 
nish you with pleasant hours. P^stablish your 
agencies, if you can, but I care more for meetings 


14 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


like this. I care more for the poetry there is in 
having Flora, and Ceres, and Pomona brought 
into the farmer’s home.” 

Her great brown eyes glowed as she spoke and 
her lifted head thrilled those who sat near enough 
to see the emotion that was in the lines of her 
face. The sun struck through the trees, that 
swayed in masses overhead, dappling the up- 
turned faces with light and shade. The leaves 
under the tread of the wind rustled softly, and 
the soaring hawk looked down curiously as he 
drifted above the grove, like a fleck of cloud. 

On Bradley, standing there alone, there fell 
something mysterious, like a light. Something 
whiter and more penetrating than the sunlight. 
As he listened, something stirred within him, a 
vast longing, a hopeless ambition, nameless as it 
was strange. His bronzed face paled and he 
breathed heavily. His eyes absorbed every detail 
of the girl’s face and figure. There was wonder 
in his eyes at her girlish face, and something like 
awe at her powerful diction and her impensonal 
emotion. She stood there like an incarnation of 
the great dream-world that lay beyond his horizon, 
the world of poets and singers in the far realms 
of light'and luxury. 

I have a dream of what is coming,” she said 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


15 


in conclusion, and her voice had a prophetic ring. 
“ I see a time when the farmer will not need to 
live in a cabin on a lonely farm. I see the 
farmers coming together in groups. I see them 
with time to read, and time to visit with their fel- 
lows. I see them enjoying lectures in beautiful 
halls, erected in every village. I see them gather 
like the Saxons of old upon the green at evening 
to sing and dance. I see cities rising near them 
with schools, and churches, and concert halls, and 
theatres. I see a day when the farmer will no 
longer be a drudge and his wife a bond slave, but 
happy men and women who will go singing to 
their pleasant tasks upon their fruitful farms.” 
The audience did not cheer, it sat as if in church. 
The girl seemed to be speaking prophecy. 

“ When the boys and girls will not go West nor 
to the city ; when life will be worth living. In 
that day the moon will be brighter and the stars 
more glad, and pleasure, and poetry, and love of 
life come back to the man who tills the soil.” 

The people broke into wild applause when she 
finished. All were deeply stirred. Tears were 
streaming down many faces, and when Deering 
arose to announce a song by the choir his voice 
shook and he made no secret of his deep Emotion. 
After the song, he said : “ Neighbors, we don’t 


16 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


want to spoil that splendid speech with another 
this day. The best thing we can do is to try to 
think that good time is here and eat our dinner 
with the resolution to bring that good time as 
soon as possible.” 

Bradley stood there after the others had risen. 
The dazzling pictures called up by the speaker’s 
words were still moving confusedly in his brain. 
They faded at last and he moved with a sigh and 
went out to feed the horses their oats. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


ir 


II. 

THE DINNER UNDER THE OAKS. 

The dinner made a beautiful scene, the most 
idyllic in the farmer’s life. The sun, now high 
noon, fell through the leaves in patches of quiver- 
iog light upon the white table-cloth, spread out 
upon the planks, and it fell upon the fair hair of 
girls, and upon the hard knotted fingers of men 
and women grown old in toil. The rattle of 
dishes, the harsh-keyed, unwonted laughter of the 
women, and the sounding invitations to dinner 
given and taken filled the air. The long plank 
seats placed together made capital tables, and 
eager children squatted about wistfully watching 
the display of each new delicacy. The crude 
abundance of the Iowa farm had been brought out 
to make it a great dinner. The boys could hardly 
be restrained from clutching at each new dish. 

The Councills and the Burns families took din- 
ner together. Mrs. Burns, fretful and worn, 
cuffed the children back from the table while 
bringing out her biscuit and roast chicken. 
Some sat stolidly silent, but big-voiced Councill 


18 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


joked in his heavy way with everyone within 
earshot. 

“Well, the Lord is on our side, neighbor Jen- 
nings, to-day, anyhow,” he roared across the space 
of two or three tables. 

“He’s always on our side, brother Councill,” 
smiled Jennings. 

“Wal, I’d know about that. Sometimes I’m 
a leettle in doubt.” 

“Got something good to eat ” inquired Jen- 
nings of Mrs. Councill. 

“ Land sakes, no ! We never have anything 
fit to eat since Jane’s gone to havin’ beaux ; my 
cookin’ aint fit for a hawg to eat.” 

“I aint a-goin’ to eat it, then,” roared Councill 
in vast delight at his joke on himself. “I’ll go 
over and eat with Marrii Jennings.” They all 
roared at this. 

“Tell us so’t we c’n laff,” called Mrs. Smith, 
coming over to see what they did have. 

“Where’s Brad?” said Mrs. Councill, looking 
about her. “Aint he cornin’ to dinner?” 

“I don’t see him around anywheres. Mebbe 
he’s out feed’n the horses,” replied Councill, with- 
out concern. 

“Say ! that was a great speech that girl made,” 
put in Brother Smith, coming over with a chicken 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


19 


leg in one hand and a buttered biscuit in the 
other. “ But what we want is free trade” — 

“What we want is a home market,” said Mil- 
ton, some distance away. 

“Oh, go to — Texas with y’r home market!” 

“Tut, tut, tut, no politics, brethren,” inter- 
rupted Jennings. 

Bradley, ignored by everybody, was standing 
over by the trunk of a large oak tree, watching 
from afar the young girl who had so stirred him. 
She was eating dinner with Deering, his wife, and 
daughter, and Milton, who was there, looking 
very bright and handsome, or at least he appeared 
so to Eileen Deering, a graceful little girl, his 
classmate at the seminary. 

Miss Wilbur sat beside Deering, who was a 
large man with a type of face somewhat resem- 
bling Lincoln’s. She was smiling brightly, but 
her smile had something thoughtful in it, and her 
eyes had unknown deeps like a leaf-bottomed 
woodland p‘ool across which the sun fell. She 
was feeling yet the stress of emotion she had felt 
in speaking, and was a little conscious of the 
admiring glances of the people. 

She saw once or twice a tall, roughly dressed 
young farmer, who seemed to be looking at her 
steadily, and there was something in his glance. 


20 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


a timid worshipful expression, that touched her 
and made her observe him more closely. He was 
very farmer-like, she noticed ; his cheap coat 
fitted him badly, and his hat was old and shape- 
less. Yet there was something natively fine and 
chivalrous in his admiration. She felt that, 

“You’re a farmer’s daughter yourself,” said 
Deering, as if they had been speaking of some- 
body else who was. 

“Yes, my father was a farmer. I’m a teacher. 
I only began a little while ago to speak in the 
interest of the farmer. It seems to me that 
everybody is looking out for himself except the 
farmer, and I want to help him to help himself. 
I expect to speak in every county in the State 
this winter.” 

Bradley crept nearer. He was eager to hear 
what she was saying. He grew furtive in his 
manner, when she observed him, and he felt as if 
he were doing something criminal. He saw Miss 
Wilbur say something to Mr. Deering, -who looked 
up a moment later and said to Bradley, whom he 
did not know, “Why, certainly, come and have 
some dinner, plenty of it.” 

Bradley flushed hot with shame and indigna- 
tion, and moved away deeply humiliated. They 
had taken him for a poor, friendless, lonely tramp. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


21 


and there was just enough truth in his loneliness 
to make it sting. 

“ Say, Brad, don’t you want some grub ? ” called 
Councill, catching sight of him. 

“ Quick, ’r’y lose it,” said Burns. 

He sat down and fell upon the dinner silently, 
but there was a hot flush still upon his face. He 
was not a beau. It had always been difficult for 
him to address a marriageable woman, and a joke 
on that subject threw him into dumb confusion. 
He had lived a dozen tender dreams of which no 
one knew a word. Indeed, he never acknowl- 
edged them to himself. He had admired in this 
way Eileen Deering whom he had seen with Mil- 
ton a few times during the year. He now envied 
Milton his easy air of calm self-possession in the 
presence of two such beautiful girls. There was 
a bitter feeling of rebellion in his heart. 

Miss Wilbur had stirred his unexplored self. 
Down where ambitions are born ; where aspira- 
tions rise like sun-shot mists, her words and the 
light of her face had gone. Already there was 
something sacred and ineffably sweet about her 
voice and face. She had come to him as the 
right woman comes sometimes to a man, and 
thereafter his whole life is changed. 

He walked away from the few people he knew. 


22 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


and tried to interest himself in the games they 
were playing but he could not. He drifted back 
to the grand stand and sought about till he could 
see Miss Wilbur once more. She was so pure, 
so beautiful to him. 

The hour or two after dinner was spent in 
visiting and getting acquainted, and the time 
seemed all too short. Each granger took this 
opportunity of inquiring after the health of the 
other grangers of the county. The young people 
wandered in laughing, romping groups about the^ 
grounds, buying peanuts and sugar candy, and 
drinking the soda water and lemonade which the 
venders called with strenuous enterprise. 

On the shadowed side of the stand the leading 
men of the grange gathered, consulting about 
plans and measures. 

“Now, it seems to me that we’re going on all 
right now,” said Deering. “ We’re getting our 
goods cheap and we’re cuttin’ off the middleman.” 

“And we’re getting hold of the railways.” 

“Yes, but it don’t amount to nothin’ compared 
to what ought to be done. We ought ’o oust 
them infernal blood-suckers that’s in our court- 
house, and we want to do it as a grange.” 

“No,” said Jennings in his placid way, “we 
can do that better. I’ve got a plan.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


23 


<^What we want,” said Hobkirk, “is a party, 
a ticket of our own, then we can ” — 

“ No, we can’t do that. It won’t be right to 
do that. We must stand by the party that has 
given us our railway legislation.” 

Milton and several of the younger farmers 
drew off one side and talked earnestly about the 
fall campaign. 

“They’ll beat us again unless we go in 
together,” Milton said with emphatic gesticula- 
*:ion. Milton was a natural politician. His words 
found quick response in the erratic Hobkirk, who 
had good ideas but whose temperament made all 
his words jagged shot. He irritated where he 
meant to convince. 

Bradley listened to it all without feeling that 
he had any part in it. It didn’t seem to him that 
politics had anything to do with the beautiful 
words of the girl. On the stand the choir began 
to sing again and he walked toward them. They 
sang on and the people listened while they packed 
away the dishes. They sang “ Auld Lang Syne,” 
and “We’ll Meet Beyond the River,” with that 
characteristic attraction of the common people 
for wistful, sorrowful cadences which is a paradox 
not easily explained. 

“All aboard!” called Councill from his wagon 


24 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


as Bradley drove the team up to the band stand. 
While the merry young people clambered in and 
paired off along the seats he was seeing Miss 
Wilbur shaking hands with the people who paused 
to say good-by. His heart ached for a glance of 
her brown eyes and a word, but he held the reins 
in his great hands and his face showed only hjs 
usual impassive reticence. He was only Coun- 
cill’s herdman. 

The banners were taken up, the children 
loaded in, the boys looking back wistfully to the 
games and the candy-stands. Councill unfurled 
his flag to the wind, and Bradley swung the eager 
horses into the lane. On all sides the farmers’ 
teams were getting out into the road ; the work 
of the marshals was done. Each man went his 
own gait. 

The young people behind Bradley began to 
sing: — 


“ Out on an ocean all boundless we ride, 

We’re homeward bound, 

Homeward bound.” 

And SO along each lane through the red sunset 
the farmers rolled home. Home through lanes 
bordered with velvet green wheat, across which 
the sunlight streamed in dazzling yellow floods. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


25 


Home through wild prairies, where the birds 
nested and the gophers whistled. The dust rose 
up, transformed into gold by the light of the set- 
ting sun. The children fell asleep in their tired 
mothers’ arms. The men shouted to each other 
from team to team, discussing the speakers and 
the crops. 

Smiles were few as each wagon turned into its 
gateway and rolled up to the silent house. The 
sombre shadow of the farm’s drudgery had fallen 
again on faces unused to smiling. 

Only the lovers lingering on the road till the 
moon rose and the witchery of night came to 
make the girlish eyes more brilliant, softening 
their gayety into a wistful tenderness, only to 
these did the close of the day seem as sweet and 
momentous as the morning. While the trusty 
horse jogged on, impatient of the slow pace set 
by his driver, the lovers sat with little to say, but 
with hearts lit by the light that can glorify for a 
few moons, at least, even the life of ceaseless toil. 


26 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


III. 

BRADLEY RESOLVES TO GO TO SCHOOL. 

A FARM is a good place to think in, if a man 
has sufficient self-sustaining force — that is, if 
work does not dominate him and force him to 
think in petty or degrading circles. 

It is a lonely life. Especially lonely on a large 
farm in the West. The life of a hired man like 
Bradley Talcott is spent mainly with the horses 
and cattle. In the spring he works day after day 
with a drag or seeder, moving to and fro an ani- 
mate speck across a dull brown expanse of soil. 
Even when he has a companion there is little 
talk, for there is little to say, and the extra exer- 
tion of speaking against the wind, or across dis- 
tances, soon forces them both into silence. 

True, there is the glory of the vast sweep of 
sky, the wild note of the crane, the flight of 
geese, the multitudinous twitter of sparrows, and 
the subtle exalting smell of the fresh, brown 
earth ; but these things do not compensate for 
human society. Nature palls upon the normal 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


27 


man when he is alone with her constantly. The 
monotone of the wind and the monochrome of the 
sky oppress him. His heart remains empty. 

The rustle of flashing, blade-like corn leaves, 
the vast clean-cut mountainous clouds of June, 
the shade of shimmering popple trees, the whistle 
of plover and the sailing hawk do not satisfy the 
man who follows the corn-plow with the hot sun 
beating down all day upon his bent head and 
dusty shoulders. His point of view is not that 
from the hammock. He is not out on a summer 
vacation. If he thinks, he thinks bitter things, 
and when he speaks his words are apt to be oaths. 

Still a man has time to think and occasionally 
a man dominates his work and refuses to be 
hardened and distorted. Many farmers swear at 
the team or the plow and everything that bothers 
them. Some whistle vacantly and mechanically 
all day, or sing in endless succession the few 
gloomy songs they know. Bradley thought. 

He thought all summer long. He was a 
powerful man physically and turned off his work 
with a ready knack which left him free to think. 
All day as he moved to and fro in the rustling 
corn rows, he thought, and with his thinking, his 
powers expanded. He had the mysterious power 
of self-development. 


28 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The centre of his thinking was that slender 
young woman and the words she had uttered. 
He repeated her prophetic words as nearly as he 
could a hundred times. He repeated them aloud 
as he plowed day after day, through the dreamful 
September mist. He began to look ahead and 
wonder what he should do or could do. Must he 
be a farmer’s hired man or a renter all his life } 
His mind moved slowly from point to point, but 
it never returned to its old dumb patience. His 
mind, like his body, had unknown latent forces. 
He was one of those natures whose delicacy and 
strength are alike hidden. 

‘^Brad don’t know his strength,” Councill was 
accustomed to say. “ If he should ever get mad 
enough to fight, the other feller’d better go 
a-visitin’.” And a person who knew his mind 
might have said, “If Bradley makes up his mind 
to do a thing he’ll do it.” But no one knew his 
mind. He did not know its resources himself. 

His mind seized upon every hint, and bit by 
bit his resolution was formed. Milton, going by 
one Monday morning on his way to the seminary, 
stopped beside the fence where Brad was plowing 
and waited for him to come up. He had a real 
interest in Bradley. 

“Hello, Brad,” he called cheerily. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


29 


« Hello, Milt.” 

“ How’s business ^ ” 

“ Oh, so so. Pretty cold.” 

The wind was blowing cold and cuttingly from 
the north-west. Milton, rosy with his walk, 
dropped down beside the hedge of weeds in the 
sun and Brad climbed over the fence and joined 
him. It was warm and cosy there, and the crick- 
ets were cheeping feebly in the russet grass 
where the sunlight fell. The wind whistled 
through the weeds with a wild, mournful sound. 
Bradley did not speak for some time. He 
listened to Milton. At last he said abruptly — 

“Say, Milt, what does it cost to go to school 
down there ? ” 

“ Depends on who goes. Cost me ’bout forty 
dollars a term. Shep an’ I room it and cook our 
own grub.” 

“ What’s the tuition ? ” 

“Eight dollars a term.” 

“Feller could go to the public school for 
nauthin’, couldn’t he.^” 

“ Yes, and that’d be all it ’ud be worth,” said 
Milton with fine scorn at an inferior institution. 

“What does a room cost.?” Brad pursued after 
a silence. 

“Well, ours cost ’bout three dollars a month. 


30 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


but we have two rooms. You could get one for 
fifty cents a week.” 

He looked up at Brad with a laugh in his 
eyes. “ Don’t think of starting in right off, do 
you } ” 

“Well, I don’t know but I might if I had 
money enough to carry me through.” 

“What y’ think o’ doin’, study law 
“No, but I’d kind o’ like to be able to speak in 
public. Seems t’ me a feller ought ’o know how 
to speak at a school meetin’ when he’s called on. 
I couldn’t say three words to save m’ soul. They 
teach that down there, don’t they } ” 

“Yes, we have Friday exercises and then there 
are two debating clubs. They’re boss for prac- 
tice. That’s where I put in most o’ my time. 
I’m goin’ into politics,” he ended with a note of 
exalted purpose as if going into politics were 
really something fine. “Are you.!*” 

“Well, there’s no tollin’ what minit a feller’s 
liable to be .called on and I’d kinder like to” — 
He fell off into silence again. 

Milton jumped up. “Well, hold on, this won’t 
do f’r me ; I must mosey along. Good-by,” he 
said, and set off down the road. 

“When does the next term begin.!*” called 
Bradley. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


31 


“November 15th,” Milton replied, looking 
about for an instant. “Better try it.” 

Bradley threw the lines over his shoulder and, 
bending his head, fell into deep calculation. 
Milton’s clear tenor was heard ringing across the 
fields, fitfully dying away. Milton made the most 
of everything, and besides he was on his way to 
see Eileen. He could afford to be gay. 

Bradley thought, even while he husked the 
corn, one of the bitterest of all farm tasks when 
the cold winds of November begin to blow. 
Councill had a large field of corn and every morn- 
ing in the cold and frosty light Ike and Bradley 
were out in the field, each with a team. Beauti- 
ful mornings, if one could have looked upon it 
from a window in a comfortable home. There 
were mornings when the glittering purple and 
orange domes of the oaks and maples swam in the 
mist dreamfully, so beautiful the eyes lingered 
upon them wistfully. Mornings when the dim 
lines of the woods were a royal purple, and gray- 
blue shadows streamed from the trees upon the 
yellow-green grass. 

Husking was the last of the fall work and the 
last day of husking found Bradley desperately 
undecided. They had been working desperately 
all the week to finish the field on Saturday. It 


32 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


was a bitter cold morning. As they leaped into 
the frost-rimmed wagon-box and caught up the 
reins, the half-frozen team sprang away with des- 
perate energy, making the wagon bound over the 
frozen ground with a thunderous clatter. 

In every field the sound of similar wagons get- 
ting out to work could be heard. It was not yet 
light. A leaden-gray dome of cloud had closed in 
over the morning sky and the feeling of snow was 
in the air. There was only a dull flush of red in 
the east to show the night had been frostily clear. 

Ike raised a great shout to let his neighbors 
know he was in the field. Councill, with a fork 
over his shoulder, was on his way down the lane 
to help a neighbor thresh. Ike jovially shook the 
reins above his colts and Bradley followed close 
behind, and the two wagons went crashing 
through the forest of corn. The race started the 
blood of the drivers as well as that of the teams. 
The cold wind cut the face like a knife and the 
crackling corn-stalks flew through the air as the 
wagons swept over them. Reaching the farther 
side they turned in and faced toward the house, 
the horses blowing white clouds of breath. 

“Jee Whitaker!" shouted Ike, as he crouched 
on the leeward side of his wagon, and threshed 
his arms around his chest, after having finished 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


33 


blanketing his team to protect them against the 
ferocious wind. Fm thunderin’ glad this is the 
last day of this kind o’ thing.” 

He looked like a grizzly bear in bad repair. 
He had an old fur cap on his head that concealed 
his ears and most of his face. He wore a ragged 
coat that was generally gray, but had white lines 
along the seams. Under this he wore another 
coat still more ragged, and the whole was belted 
at the waist with an old surcingle. Like his 
father, he was possessed of vast physical strength, 
and took pride in his powers of endurance. 

“Wal, here goes,” he said, stripping off his out- 
side coat. “ It’s tough, but it aint no use dreadin’ 
it.” 

Bradley smiled back at him in his woodless way, 
and caught hold of the first ear. It sent a shiver 
of pain through him. His fingers, worn to the 
quick, protruded from his stiff, ragged gloves, and 
the motions of clasping and stripping the ear were 
like the rasp of a file on a naked nerve. He 
shivered and swore, but his oath was like a groan. 

The horses, humped and shivering, looked black 
and fuzzy, by reason of their erected hair. They 
tore at the corn-stalks hungrily. Their tails 
streamed sidewise with the force of the wind, 
which had a wild and lonesome sound, as it swept 


34 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


across the sear stretches of the corn. The stalks 
towered far above the heads of the buskers, but 
did little to temper the onslaught of the blast. 

Occasional flocks of geese drifted by in the 
grasp of the inexorable gale, their necks out-thrust 
as if they had already caught the gleam of their 
warm southern lagoons. Clouds of ducks, more 
adventurous, were seen in irregular flight, rising 
and falling from the lonely fields with wild clap- 
ping of wings. Only the sparrows seemed indif- 
ferent to the cold. 

There was immensity in the dome of the 
unbroken, seamless, gray threatening sky. There 
was majesty in the dim plain, across which the 
morning light slowly fell. The plain, with its 
dark blue groves, from which thin lines of smoke 
rose and hastened away, and majesty in the wind 
that came from the illimitable and desolate north. 
But the lonely buskers had no time to feel, much 
less to think, upon these things. 

They bent down to their work and snatched 
the red and yellow ears bare of their frosty husks 
with marvelous dexterity. The first plunge over, 
Bradley found as usual that the sharpest pain was 
over. The wind cut his face, and an occasional 
driving flake of snow struck and clung to his face 
and stung. His coat collar chafed his chin, and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


35 


the frost wet his gloves through and through. 
But he warmed to it and at last almost forgot it. 
He fell into thought again, so deep that his work 
became absolutely mechanical. 

“ Say, Brad, let’s go to that dance over at 
Davis’s,” shouted Ike, after an hour of silence. 

“ I guess not.” 

“Why not.?” 

“Because I aint invited.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right ; Ed, he told me to bring 
anyone I felt like.” 

“ I aint going, all the same. I may be in Rock 
River by next Wednesday.” 

“They aint no danger o’ you’re going to Rock 
River.” 

Bradley fell once more into the circle of his 
plans and went the round again. He had saved 
two hundred dollars. It was enough to take him 
to school a year, but what then .? That was the 
recurring question. It was the most momentous 
day in his life. Should he spend his money in 
this way.? Every dollar of it represented toil, 
long days of lonely plowing or dragging, long 
days under the burning harvest sun. It was all 
he had, all he had to show for his life. Was it 
right to spend it for schooling .? 

“ What good’ll it do yeh .? ” Ike asked one day 


36 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


when Bradley was feeling out for a little helpful 
sympathy. “ Better buy a team with it and rent 
a piece of land. What y’ goan to do after you 
spent the money.**” 

“I don’t know,” Bradley had replied in his hon- 
est way. 

“ Wal, I’d think of it a dum long spell ’fore I’d 
do it,” was Ike’s reply, and Councill had agreed 
with it. 

Bradley fell behind Ike, for he wanted to be 
alone. He had grown into the habit of account- 
ing to Her for his actions, and when he wished to 
consult with HeVy he wanted to be alone. There 
was something sacred, even in the thought of 
HeVy and he shrank from having his thoughts 
broken in upon by any careless or jesting word. 

As he pondered, his hands grew slower in their 
action and, at last, he stopped and leaned against 
the wagon-box. Something came into his heart 
that shook him, a feeling of unknown power, a 
certainty of faith in himself. He shivered with 
an electric thrill that made his hair stir. 

He lifted his face to the sky and his eyes saw 
a crane sailing with stately grace, in measureless 
circle, a mere speck against the unbroken gray of 
the sky. There seemed something prophetic ; 
something mystic in its harsh, wild cry that fell, 


A SPOIL OP OFFICE. 


37 


like the scream of the eagle, a defiant note 
against wind and storm. 

*‘ril do it,” he said, and his hands clinched. 
At the sound of his voice he shivered again, as if 
the wind had suddenly penetrated his clothing. 
His dress made him grotesque. The spaces 
around him made him pathetic, but in his golden- 
brown eyes was something that made him sublime. 

The thought which he dared not utter, but 
which lay deep under every resolution and action 
he made, was the hope, undefined and unacknowl- 
edged to himself, that sometime he might meet 
her and have her approve his action. 


I 



1 


38 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


IV. 

Bradley’s trials at school. 

The morning on which Bradley was to begin 
his term at the seminary was a clear, crisp day in 
later November. He had rented a room in the 
basement of a queer old building, known as ^e 
Park Hotel, a crazy mansard-roofed structure 
which held at regular intervals some rash men 
attempting to run it as a hotel. 

Bradley had rented this cellar because it was 
the cheapest place he could find. He agreed to 
pay two dollars a month for it, and the use of the 
two chairs, and cooking stove, which made up its 
furnishing. He had purchased a skillet and two 
or three dishes, Mrs. Councill had lent him a bed, 
and he seemed reasonably secure against hunger 
and cold. 

He looked forward to his entrance into the 
school with dread. All that Monday morning he 
stood about his door watching for Milton and see- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


39 


ing the merry students in procession up the walk. 
The girls seemed so bright and so beautiful, he 
wondered how the boys could walk beside them 
with such calm unconcern. Their laughter, their 
mutual greetings threw him into a profound self- 
pity and disgust. When he joined Milton and 
Shepard, and went up the walk under the bare- 
limbed maple trees, he shivered with fear. They 
all seemed perfectly at home, with the exception 
of himself. 

Milton knowing what to expect smuggled him 
into the chapel in the midst of a crowd of five 
or six others, and thus he escaped the derisive 
applause with which the pupils were accustomed 
to greet each new-comer at the opening of a term. 
He gave one quick glance at the rows of faces, 
and shambled awkwardly along to his seat beside 
Milton, his eyes downcast. He found courage 
to look around and study his fellow-students after 
a little and discovered that several of them were 
quite as awkward, quite as ill at ease as himself. 

Milton, old pupil as he was (that is to .say, this 
was his second term), sat beside him and indi- 
cated the seniors as they came in, and among the 
rest pointed out Radbourn. 

“ He’s the high mucky-muck o’ this shebang,” 
Shep whispered. 


40 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


‘‘Why so?” asked Bradley, looking carefully 
at the big, smooth-faced, rather gloomy-looking 
young fellow. 

Shep hit his own head with his fist in a com- 
ically significant gesture. “ Brains ! What d’ 
ye call ’em. Milt ? Correscations of the serry 
beltum.” 

Shepard was a short youth with thick yellow 
hair, and a comically serious^^quality in the twist 
of his long upper lip. 

Milton grinned. “Convolutions of the cere- 
brum, I s’pose you’re driving at. Shep comes to 
school to have fun,” Milton explained to Bradley. 

“ Chuss,” said Shep, by which he meant yes ; 
“an’ I have it, too, betyerneck. I enter no plea, 
me lord ” — 

There came a burst of applause as a tall and 
attractive girl came in with her arms laden down 
with books. Her intellectual face lit up with a 
smile at the applause, and a pink flush came into 
her pale cheek. “That’s Miss Graham,” whis- 
pered Shepard ; “she’s all bent up on Radbourn.” 

The teachers came in, the choir rose to sing, 
and the exercises of the morning began. Bradley 
thought Miss Graham, with her heavy-lidded, 
velvety-brown eyes, looked like Miss Wilbur. 
Her eyes were darker, he decided, and she was 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


41 


taller and paler; in fact, the resemblance was 
mainly in her manner which had the same dignity 
and repose. 

At Milton’s suggestion Bradley remained in his 
seat after the rest of the pupils had marched out 
to the sound of the organ. Then Milton intro- 
duced him to the principal, who took him by the 
hand so cordially that his embarrassment was 
gone in a moment. “ Come and see me at 
eleven,” he said. After a short talk with him in 
his room a couple hours later, his work was 
assigned. 

“You’ll be in the preparatory department, Mr. 
Talcott, but if you care to do extra work we may 
get you into the junior class. Jennings, look 
after him a little, won’t you V 

The principal was a kind man, but he had two 
hundred of these rude, awkward farmer-boys, and 
he could not be expected to study each one 
closely enough to discover their latent powers. 
Bradley went away down town to buy his books, 
with a feeling that the smile of the principal was 
not genuine, and he felt also that Milton was a 
little ashamed of him here in the town. Every- 
thing seemed to be going hard with him. But 
his hardest trial came when he entered the class- 
room at one o’clock. 


42 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


He knew no one, of course, and the long, 
narrow room was filled with riotous boys and girls 
all much younger than himself. All the desks 
seemed to be occupied and he was obliged to run 
the gauntlet of the entire class in his search for a 
seat. As he walked down the room so close to 
the wall that he brushed the chalk of the black- 
board off upon his shoulder, he made a really ludi- 
crous figure. All of his fine, free, unconscious 
grace was gone and his strength of limb only 
added to his awkwardness. 

The girls were of that age where they find the 
keenest delight in annoying a bashful fellow such 
as they perceived this new-comer to be. His 
hair had been badly barbered by Councill and his 
suit of cotton diagonal, originally too small and 
never a fit, was now yellow on the shoulders 
where the sun had faded the analine dye, and his 
trousers were so tight that they clung to the tops 
of his great boots, exposing his huge feet in all 
their enormity of shapeless housing. His large 
hands protruded from his sleeves and were made 
still more noticeable by his evident loss of their 
control. 

“Picked too soon,” said Nettie Russell, with a 
vacant stare into space, whereat the rest shrieked 
with laughter. A great hot wave of blood rushed 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


43 


up over Bradley, making him dizzy. He knew 
that joke all too well. He looked around blindly 
for a seat. As he stood there helpless, Nettie hit 
him with a piece of chalk and someone threw the 
eraser at his boots. 

^‘Number twelves,” said young Brown. 

“When did it get loose 

“Does your mother know you’re out 

“Put your hat over it,” came from all sides. 

He saw an empty chair and started to sit down, 
but Nettie slipped into it before him. He 
started for her seat and her brother Claude got 
there apparently by mere accident just before 
him. Bradley stood again indecisively, not daring 
to look up, burning with rage and shame. Again 
someone hit him with a piece of chalk, making a 
resounding whack, and the entire class roared 
again in concert. 

“Why, its head is ivood!*' said Claude, in 
apparent astonishment at his own discovery. 

Bradley raised his head for the first time. 
There came into his eyes a look that made Claude 
Russell tremble. He again approached an empty 
chair and was again forestalled by young Brown. 
With a bitter curse he swung his great open 
palm around and laid his tormentor flat on. the 
floor, stunned and breathless. A silence fell on 


44 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the group. It was as if a lion had awakened 
with a roar of wrath. 

“Come on, all o’ ye!” he snarled through his 
set teeth, facing them all. As he stood thus the 
absurdity of his own attitude came upon him. 
They were only children, after all. Reeking with 
the sweat of shame and anger which burst from 
his burning skin, he reached for a chair. 

Nettie, like the little dare-devil that she was, 
pulled the chair from under him, and he saved 
himself from falling only by wildly clutching the 
desk before him. As it was, he fell almost into 
her lap and everybody shrieked with uncontroll- 
able laughter. In the midst of it, Miss Clayson, 
the teacher, came hurrying in to silence the 
tumult, and Bradley rushed from the room like a 
bull from the arena, maddened with the spears of 
the toreador. He snatched his hat and coat from 
the rack and hardly looked up till he reached the 
haven of his little cellar. 

He threw his cap on the floor and for a half 
hour raged up and down the floor, his mortifica- 
tion and shame and rage finding vent in a fit of 
cursing such as he had never had in his life 
before. All awkwardness was gone now. His 
great limbs, supple and swift, clenched, doubled, 
and thrust out against the air in unconscious 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


45 


lightning-swift gestures that showed how terrible 
he could be when roused. 

‘ At last he grew calm enough to sit down, and 
then his mood changed to the deepest dejection. 
He sank into a measureless despair. A terrible 
ache came into his throat. 

They were right, he was a great hulking fool. 
He never could be anything but a clod-hopper, 
anyway. He looked down at his great hand, at 
his short trousers, and the indecent ugliness of 
his horrible boots, and studied himself without 
mercy to himself. He acknowledged that they 
were hideous, but he couldn’t help it. 

Then his mind took another turn and he went 
over the history of that suit. He didn’t want it 
when he bought it, but he found himself like wax, 
moulded by the soft, white, confidential hands of 
the Jew salesman, who offered it to him as a spe- 
cial favor below cost. In common with other 
young men of his sort he always felt under obli- 
gation to buy if he went into a store, even if 
there was nothing there that suited him. He 
knew when he bought the suit and paid eleven 
dollars for it that he would always be sorry, and 
its cheapness now appalled him. 

He always swore at himself for this weakness 
before the salesman, and yet, year by year he had 


46 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


been cheated in the same way. For the first 
time, however, he saw his clothing in all its 
hideousness. Those cruel girls and grinning 
boys had shown him that clothes made the man, 
even in a western school. The worst part of it 
was that he had been humiliated by a girl and 
there was no redress. His strength of limb was 
useless here. 

He sat there till darkness came into his room. 
He did not replenish the coal in the stove that 
leered at him from the two broken doors in front, 
and seemed to face him with a crazy, drunken 
reel on its mis-matched legs. He was hungry, 
but he sat there enjoying in a morbid way the 
pang of hunger. It helped him someway to bear 
the sting of his defeat. 

It was the darkest hour of his life. He swore 
never to go back again to that room. He 
couldn’t face that crowd of grinning faces. He 
turned hot and cold by turns as he thought of 
his folly. He was a cursed fool for ever think- 
ing of trying to do anything but just dig away on 
a farm. He might have known how it would be; 
he’d got behind and had to be classed in with the 
children ; there was no help for it ; he’d never go 
back. \ 

The thought of Her came in again and again. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


47 


but the thought couldn’t help him. Her face 
drove the last of his curses from his lips, but it 
threw him into a fathomless despair, where he no 
longer defined his thoughts into words. Her face 
shone like a star, but it stood over a bottomless 
rift in the earth and showed how impassable its 
yawning barrier was. 

There came a whoop outside and a scramble 
at the door and somebody tumbled into the room. 

“ Anybody here ” 

“ Hello, where are you. Brad ? ” 

He recognized Milton’s voice. Yes, I’m here ; 
but wait a minute.” 

Caesar, I guess we’ll wait ! Break our necks 
if we don’t,” said the other shadow whom he now 
recognized as Shep Watson. Always live in 
the dark } ” 

They waited while' he lighted the dim little 
kerosene lamp on the table. ‘‘O conspiracy, 
shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by 
night,” quoted Shep in the interim. 

“Been ’sleep asked Milton. 

“No. Se’ down, anywheres,” he added on 
second thought, as he realized that chairs were 
limited. 

“Say, Brad, come on; let’s go over t’ the 
society.” 


48 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ I guess not,” said Brad sullenly. 

“Why not.?” asked Milton, recognizing some- 
thing bitter in his voice. 

“Because, I aint got any right to go. I aint 
goin’ t’ school ag’in. I’m goin’ west.” 

“ Why, what’s up .? ” 

“I aint a-goin’, that’s all. I can’t never ketch 
up with the rest of you fellers.” His voice broke 
a little, “ an’ it aint much fun havin’ to go in with 
a whole raft o’ little boys and girls.” 

“ Oh, say now. Brad, I wouldn’t mind ’em if I 
was you,” said Milton, after a pause. He had 
the delicacy not to say he had heard the details 
of Bradley’s experience. “We all have to go 
through ’bout the same row o’ stumps, don’t we, 
Shep.? The way to do with ’em is to jest pay 
no ’tention to ’em.” 

But the good-will and sympathy of the boys 
could not prevail upon Bradley to go with them. 
He persisted in his determination to leave school. 
And the boys finally went out leaving him alone. 
Their influence had been good, however; he was 
distinctly less bitter after they left him and his 
thoughts went back to Miss Wilbur. What would 
she think of him if he gave up all his plans 
the first day, simply because some mischievous 
girls and boys had made him absurd ? When he 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


49 


thought of her he felt strong enough to go back, 
but when he thought of his tormentors and what 
he would be obliged to endure from them, he 
shivered and shrank back into despondency. 

He was still fighting his battle, when a slow 
step came down the stairs ending in a sharp rap 
upon the 'door. He said, “Come in,” and Rad- 
bourn, the most powerful and most popular senior, 
entered the room. He was a good deal of an 
autocrat in the town and in the school, and took 
pleasure in exercising his power on behalf of some 
poor devil like Bradley Talcott. 

“Jennings tells me you’re going to give it up,” 
he said, without preliminary conversation. 

Bradley nodded sullenly. “What’s the use, 
anyhow } I might as well. I’m too old, any- 
how.” 

Radbourn looked at him a moment in silence. 
“Put on your hat and let’s go outside,” he said at 
length, and there was something in his voice that 
Bradley obeyed. 

Once on the outside Radbourn took his arm 
and they walked on up the street in silence for 
some distance. It was still, and clear, and frosty, 
and the stars burned overhead with many-colored 
brilliancy. 

“Now I know all about it, Talcott, and I know 


50 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


just about how you feel. But all the same you 
must go back there to-morrow morning.” 

“It aint no use talkin’, I can’t do it.” 

“Yes, you can. You think you can’t, but you 
can. A man can do anything if he only thinks 
he can and tries hard. You can’t afford to let a 
little thing like that upset your plans. I under- 
stand your position exactly. You’re at a disad- 
vantage,” he changed his pace suddenly, stopping 
Bradley. “Now, Talcott, you’re at a disadvantage 
with that suit. It makes you look like a gawk, 
when you’re not. You’re a stalwart fellow, and if 
you’ll invest in a new suit of clothes as Jennings 
did, it’ll make all the difference in the world.” 

“ I can’t afford it.” 

“No, that’s a mistake, you can’t afford not to 
have it. A good suit of clothes will do more to 
put you on an equality with the boys than any- 
thing else you can do for yourself. Now let’s 
drop in here to see my friend, who keeps what you 
need, and to-morrow I’ll call for you and take you 
into the class and introduce you to Miss Clay- 
son, and you’ll be all right. You didn’t start 
right.” 

When he walked in with Radbourn the next 
morning and was introduced to the teacher, Nettie 
Russell stared in breathless astonishmemt. He 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


51 


was barbered and wore a suit which showed his 
splendid length and strength of limb. 

‘‘ Well said ! Aint we a big sunflower ! My 
sakes! aint we a-coming out!” “No moon last 
night.” “Must ’a ben a fire.” “He got them 
with a basket and a club,” were some of the 
remarks he heard. 

Bradley felt the difference in the atmosphere, 
and he walked to his seat with a self-possession 
that astonished himself. And from that time he 
was master of the situation. The girls pelted him 
with chalk and marked figures on his back, but he 
kept at his work. He had a firm grip on the 
plow-handles now, and he didn’t look back. They 
grew to respect him, at length, and some of the 
girls distinctly showed their admiration. Brown 
came over to get help on a sum and so did Nettie, 
and when he sat down beside her she winked in 
triumph at the other girls while Bradley patiently 
tried to explain the problem in algebra which was 
his own terror. 

He certainly was a handsome fellow in a rough- 
angled way, and when the boys found he could 
jump eleven feet and eight inches at a standing 
jump, they no longer drew any distinctions 
between his attainments in algebra and their own. 
Neither did his poverty count against him with 


52 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


them. He sawed wood in every spare hour with 
desperate energy to make up for the sinful extrava- 
gance of his new fifteen dollar suit of clothes. 

He was sawing wood in an alley one Saturday 
morning where he could hear a girl singing in 
a bird-like way that was very charming. He 
was tremendously hungry, for he had been at 
work since the first faint gray light, and the 
smell of breakfast that came to his senses was 
tantalizing. 

He heard the girl’s rapid feet moving about in 
the kitchen and her voice rising and falling, 
pausing and beginning again as if she were work- 
ing rapidly. Then she fell silent, and he knew 
she was at breakfast. 

At last she opened the door and came out along 
the walk with a tablecloth. She shook her cloth, 
and then her singing ceased and Bradley went on 
with his work. 

“Hello, Brad ! ” called a sudden voice. 

He looked up and saw Nettie Russell’s roguish 
face peering over the board fence. 

“Hello,” he replied, and stood an instant in 
wordless surprise. “ I didn’t know you lived 
there.” 

“Well, I do. Aint tickled to death to find it 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


53 


out, I s’pose ? Say, you aint so very mad at me, 
are yeh?” she added insinuatingly. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent. 
He noticed for the first time how childishly 
round her face was ! 

She took a new turn. *‘Say, aint you hungry 

Bradley admitted that he had eaten an early 
breakfast. He did not say it was composed of 
fried pork and potatoes and baker’s bread, with- 
out tea, coffee, or milk. 

The girl seemed delighted to think he was 
hungry. 

‘‘You wait a minute,” she commanded, and her 
smiling face disappeared from the top of the 
fence. Brad went to work to keep from catching 
cold, wondering what she was going to do. She 
reappeared soon with a fat home-made sausage 
and a couple of warm biscuits which she insisted 
upon his taking. 

“They’re all buttered and — they’ve got sugar 
on ’em,” she whispered significantly. 

“Say, you eat now, while I saw,” she com- 
manded, coming around through the gate. 

She had put on her fascinator hood, but her 
hands and wrists were bare. She struggled away 
on a log, putting her knee on it in a comically 
resolute style. 


54 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“The saw always goes crooked,” she said in 
despair. Bradley laughed at her heartily. 

“Say, do you do this for fun.!^” she asked, 
stopping to puff, her cheeks a beautiful pink. 

“No, I don’t. I do it because I’m obliged to.” 

She threw down the saw. “ Well, that beats 
me; I can’t saw, but I can cook. I made them 
biscuits.” She challenged his opinion, as he well 
knew. 

“They’re first rate,” he admitted, and they 
were friends. She watched him eat with apparent 
satisfaction. 

“Say, I can’t stay here. I’ll freeze. Are yeh 
going to be here till noon } ” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, when I whistle you come in and get 
some grub, will yeh?” Bradley smiled back at 
her laughing face. 

“This ain’t your folks’ wood pile.” 

“What’s the difference?” she replied. “You 
jest come in, will yeh ? ” 

“ Yes, I’ll come.” 

“ Like fun you will ! Honest ? ” she persisted. 

“ Hope to die,” he said solemnly. 

“That’s the checker,” she said, and disappeared 
with a click of the tongue. 

Bradley worked away in a glow of cheerfulness. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


It was astonishing how much this little victory 
over a roguish girl meant to him. He had 
changed one person’s ridicule to friendship, and it 
seemed to be prophetic of other victories. 

The time seemed very short that forenoon. 
Once or twice Nettie came out to bring some 
news about the cooking. 

Say, I’m making an apple pie. I’m a dandy 
on pies and cakes.” 

“I guess they would be ‘pizen ’ cakes.” 

She threw an imaginary club at him. 

“Well, if that ain’t the sickest old joke! 
You’ll go without any pie if you get off such a 
thing again.” 

But as dinner-time drew on he felt more and 
more unwilling to go into the kitchen. 

He heard her whistle, but he remained at the 
saw-horse. It would do in the country, but not 
here. He had no right to go in there and 
eat. 

There was a note of impatience in her voice 
when she looked over the fence and said, “Why 
don’t you come ? ” 

“ I dassant I ” 

“Oh, bother I What y’ ’fraid of.-*” 

“What business have I got to eat your dinner.? 
This aint your wood-pile.” 


56 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ Say, if you don’t come in I’ll — I dunno 
what ! ” 

Bring it out here, it’s warm.” 

“I won’t do it; you’ve got to come in; the old 
man’s gone up town and mother won’t throw you 
out. There isn’t anybody in the kitchen. Come 
on now,” she pleaded. 

Bradley followed her into the house, feeling 
a good deal like a very large dog, very hungry, 
who had followed a child’s invitation into the par- 
lor, and felt out of place. 

He sat down by the fire, and silently ate what 
she placed before him, while she chattered away 
in high glee. When Mrs. Russell came in, Nettie 
did not take the trouble to introduce him to her 
mother, who moved about the room in a wordless 
way, smiling a little about the eyes. She was 
entirely subject to her daughter. She heard 
them discussing lessons and concluded they were 
classmates. 

Bradley went back to his wood-sawing and soon 
finished the job. As he shouldered his saw and 
saw-buck, Nettie came out and peered over the 
fence again. 

“Say, goin’ to attend the social Monday.?” 

“Guess not. I ain’t much on such things.” 

“It’s lots o’ fun; we spin the platter and all 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


57 


kinds o’ things. I’m goin’,” she looked archly 
inviting. 

Bradley colored. He was not astute, but hints 
like this were not far from kicks. He looked 
down at his saw as he said, “ I guess I won’t go. 
I’ve got to study.” 

“ Well, good-by,” she said without mortifica- 
tion. She was so much of a child yet that she 
could be jilted without keen pain. “ See y’ Mon- 
day,” she said as she ran into the house. 

Someway Bradley’s life was lightened by that 
day’s experience. He went home to his bleak 
little room in a resolute mood. He sat down at 
his table upon which lay his algebra, determined 
to prepare Monday’s lessons, but the pencil fell 
from his hand, hi.s head sank down and lay upon 
the open page before him. Woodsawing had 
worn him down and algebra had made him sleep. 


58 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


V. 

BRADLEY RISES TO ADDRESS THE CARTHAGINIANS. 

He was now facing another terror, the Friday 
afternoon recitals, in which alternate sections of 
the pupils were obliged to appear before the pub- 
lic in the chapel to recite or read an essay. It 
was an ordeal that tried the souls of the bravest 
of them all. ^ 

Unquestionably it kept many pupils away. 
Nothing could be more terrible to a shrinking 
awkward boy or girl from a farm than this 
requirement, to stand upon a raised platform with 
nothing to break the effect of sheer crucifixion. 
It was appalling. It was a pillory, a stake, a burn- 
ing, and yet there was a fearful fascination about 
it, and it was doubtful if a majority of the stu- 
dents would have voted for its abolition. The 
preps and juniors saw the seniors winning elec- 
trical applause from the audience and fancied the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


59 


same prize was within their reach. There was no 
surer or more instant success to be won than that 
which followed a splendid oratorical effort on the 
platform. It was worth the cost. 

Each new-comer dreaded it for weeks and 
talked about it constantly. Bradley, like all the 
rest before him, could not eat a thing on the 
morning preceding his trial, and in fact had suf- 
fered a distinct loss of oppetite from the middle 
of the week. 

Mary Barber, a tall, awkward, badly-dressed 
girl, met him as he was going up the steps after 
the first bell. 

*^Say, how you feelin’ ! I’ve shook all the 
mornin’. I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do. 
I’m just sick.” 

Why don’t you say so an’ get off.^*” Bradley 
suggested. 

‘‘Because that’s what I did last time, and it 
won’t work any more.” The poor girl’s teeth 
were chattering with her fright. She laughed at 
herself in an hysterical way, and wrung her hands, 
as if with cold, and dropped back into the broad- 
est kind of dialect. “Oh, I feel ’sif my stomach 
was all gone.” 

Nettie Russell regarded it all as merely another 
disagreeable duty to be shirked. Nothing troub- 


60 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


led her very much. “You just wait and see how 
I get out of it,” she said, as she passed by. At 
two o’clock the principal came in, and removed 
even the small pulpit, so that nothing should 
stand between the shrinking young orators and 
the keen derisive eyes below. 

The chapel was a very imposing structure to 
Bradley. It was square and papered in grey- 
white with fluted columns of the Corinthian order 
of architecture, and that touch of history and 
romance did not fail of its effect on the country 
boys fresh from the barn-yard and the corn-rows. 
It added to their fear and self-abasement, as they 
rolled their slow eyes around and upward. The 
audience consisted mainly of the pupils arranged 
according to classes, the girls on the left and the 
boys on the right. In addition, some of the 
towns-people, who loved oratory, or were specially 
interested in the speakers of the day, were often 
present to add to the terror of the occasion. 

Radbourn came in with Lily Graham, talking 
earnestly. He was in the same section with 
Bradley, a fact which did not cheer Bradley at all. 
Jack Carver came in with a jaunty air. His cuffs 
and collar were linen, and his trousers were tailor- 
made, which was distinction enough for him. 
He had no scruples, therefore, in shirking the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


61 


speaking with the‘ same indifference Nettie Rus- 
sell showed. 

Milton, who came in the first section, was jok- 
ing the rest upon their nervousness. 

“Say, when did you eat y’r last meal.!^” he 
whispered to Bradley. 

“Yesterday morning,” Bradley replied, unable 
to smile. 

All the week the members of the last section 
had been prancing up and down the various 
rooms in boarding-houses, to the deep disgust of 
their fellow students, who mixed harsh comments 
throughout their practice, as they shouted in 
thunder tones : 

“I came not here to talk. (^Then why don’t 
you shut up.!*’) You know too well the story of 
our thraldom. (‘You bet we do, we’ve heard it 
all the week.’) The beams of the setting sun fall 
upon a slave. (‘Would a beam of some sort 
would fall on you.’) O Rome! Rome!” — (‘Oh, 
go roam the wild wood.’)” 

All the week the boarding-house mistresses had 
pounded on the stove-pipe to bring the appeal of 
“ Spartacus to the Romans ” down to a key that 
would not also include all the people in the block. 
All to no purpose. Spartacus was aroused, and 
nothing but a glaive or a battle-axe could bring 


62 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


him to silence and submission. The first section 
now sat smiling grimly. Their revenge was 
coming. 

After the choir had sung, the principal of ora- 
tory, note-book in hand, came down among the 
pupils, and began the fateful roll-call. 

The first name called was Alice Masters, an 
ambitious, but terribly plain .and awkward girl. 
She had not eaten anything since the middle of 
the week, and was weak and nervous with fright. 
She sprang out of her seat, white as a dead per- 
son, and rushed up the aisle. As she stepped 
upon the platform she struck her toe and nearly 
fell. The rest laughed, some hysterically, the 
most of them in thoughtless derision. The blood 
rushed into her face and when she turned, she 
seemed to be masked in scarlet. She began, 
stammeringly, her fingers playing nervously with 
the seams of her dress. 

“Beside his block the sculptor — 

“Beside his block — 

“Beside, the sculptor stood beside” — 

She could not think of another word, not one, 
and she fell into a horrible silence, wringing her 
hands piteously. It was impossible for her to go 
on, and impossible for her to leave the floor til) 
the word of release came. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


63 


“That will do,” said the principal in calm un- 
concern, and she rushed from the room, and the 
next name was called. At length Nettie Russell 
faced the audience, a saucy smile on her lips, and 
a defiant tilt to her nose. She spoke a verse of 
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” to the vast delight 
of the preps, who had dared her to do it. The 
principal scowled darkly, and put a very emphatic 
black mark opposite her name. 

As name after name was called, Bradley’s chill 
deepened, and the cold sweat broke out upon his 
body. There was a terrible weakness and nausea 
at his stomach, and he drew long, shivering inspi- 
rations like a man facing an icy river, into which 
he must plunge. His hands shook till he was 
forced to grasp the desk to hide his tremor. 

He was saved from utter flight by Radbourn, 
who came before him. Whatever nervousness 
the big senior had ever felt, he was well over 
now, for he walked calmly up the aisle, and took 
his place with easy dignity. He scorned to 
address the Romans, or the men of England. 
He was always contemporaneous. He usually 
gave orations on political topics, or astounded his 
teachers by giving a revolutionary opinion of 
some classic. No matter what subject he dealt 
with, he interested and held his audience. His 


64 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


earnest face and deep-set eyes had something 
compelling in them, and his dignity and self- 
possession in themselves fascinated the poor fel- 
lows, who sat there in deathly sickness, shaking 
with terror. 

Bradley felt again the fascination of an orator, 
and again his heart glowed with a secret feeling 
that he, too, could be an orator like that. He felt 
strong, and cool, and hopeful, while Radbourn was 
speaking, but afterward that horrible, weakening 
fear came back upon him. 

He couldn’t look at poor Harry Stillman, who 
came on a few names further. Harry had 
pounded away all the week on Webster’s reply to 
Hayne, and he now stood forth in piteous con- 
trast to his ponderous theme. His thin, shaking 
legs toed-in like an Indian’s, and his trousers were 
tight, and short, and checked, which seemed to 
increase the tightness and shortness. He had 
narrow shoulders and thin, long arms, which he 
used like a jumping jack, each gesture being curi- 
ously unrelated to his facial expression, which 
was mainly appealing and apprehensive. As 
Shep Watson said, He looked as if he expected 
a barn to fall on him.” 

At last Bradley’s name was spoken, and he 
rose in a mist. The windows had disappeared. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


65 


They were mere blurs of light. As he walked up 
.the aisle the floor fell away from the soles of his 
feet. He no longer walked, he was a brain float- 
ing in space. He made his way to the stage 
without accident, for he had rehearsed it all so 
many times in his mind that unconscious cerebra- 
tion attended to the necessary motions. When 
he faced the assembly, he seemed facing a bound- 
less sea of faces. They in their turn were awed 
by something they saw in his eyes. His face was 
white and his eyes burned with a singular light. 
A mysterious power emanated from him as from 
the born orator. 

Like all the rest he had taken a theme that was 
far beyond his apparent powers, and the apparent 
comprehension of his audience ; but they had 
been fed so long upon William Tell, Rienzi, Marc 
Antony and Spartacus, that every line was famil- 
iar. Nothing was too ponderous, too lofty, too 
peak-addressing for them. 

He mispronounced the words, his gestures were 
awkward and spasmodic, but lofty emotion exalted 
him and vibrated in his voice. He thrilled every 
heart. He had opened somewhere, somehow, a 
vast reservoir of power. A great calm fell upon 
him. A wild joy of new-found strength that 
awed and thrilled his own heart. It seemed as if 


66 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


a new spirit had taken his flesh. As he went on 
he grew more dignified and graceful. His great 
arms seemed to be gigantic, as he thundered 
against the Carthaginians. Everybody forgot his 
dress, his freckled face, and when he closed, the 
applause was instant and generous. 

As he walked back to his seat, the exultant 
light went out of his eyes, his limbs relaxed, the 
windows and the sunlight cleared to vulgar day, 
and his face flushed with timidity. He sat down 
with a feeling of melancholy in his heart, as if 
something divine had faded out of his life. 

But Radbourn reached out his hand in the 
face of the whole school and said, “First rate!” 
The pupils had the western love for oratory, and 
several of them crowded about to congratulate him 
on his speech. 

Bradley did not feel at all sure of his success. 
He had been something alien to himself in that 
speech, and he could not remember what he had 
said or done. He was not at all sure that he had 
done the right thing or the best thing. He was 
suspicious of his power because he no longer felt 
it. He was like a man who had dreamed of flying 
and woke to find himself paralyzed. After his 
triumph he was the same great, awkward, country 
hired-man. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


67 


“Say, look here, Talcott,” said Radbourn, as 
they met at the door of the chapel going out, 
“I’m going to propose you as a member of the 
Delta; come up Monday, and I’ll put you 
through.” 

“Oh, they don’t want me.” 

“Don’t be so modest. They’re in need of just 
such men. You’ll be in demand now, no fear 
about that.” 

There was a struggle now to get him into the 
societies, which were, as usual, bitter rivals. He 
was secretly anxious to be one of the debaters. 
In fact he had counted more on that than upon 
all the rest of the advantages of the school. He 
thought it would please Her better. 

He joined the Delta, over which Radbourn pre- 
sided, and wore the society pin with genuine 
pride. He sat for several meetings silently in his 
seat, awed by the excessive formality of proceed- 
ings, and the strictness of the parliamentary rules. 
It was a curious thing to see the meeting come 
to order out of a chaos of wrestling, shouting, 
singing members whose excess of life filled the 
room like a crowd of prize-fighters. 

Rap! Rap! And the sound of the gavel 
stilled the noise as if each man had received a 
blow on his head. 


68 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


' They took their seats while the stern president 
remained standing. One final rap, and the room 
was perfectly quiet, and every member an inexo- 
rable parliamentarian, ready to question decisions, 
or rise to points of order at the slightest infrac- 
tion of Cushing’s manual. Radbourn ruled with 
a gavel of iron, but they all enjoyed it the more. 
Half the fun and probably half the benefit of the 
society would have been lost with the loss of 
order. 

This strenuous dignity awed Bradley for a time. 
His fellows seemed transformed into something 
quite other than their usual selves, into grave 
law-makers. This strangeness wore away after a 
time and he grew more at ease. He began to 
study Cushing along with the rest. It laid the 
foundation for a thorough knowledge of the 
methods of conducting a meeting, which wap 
afterward of so much value to him. 

His first attempt at debating was upon the 
question, “ Should farmers be free traders ? ” a 
question which was introduced by Milton, who 
was always attempting to introduce question? 
which would strike fire. Nothing pleased his fun- 
loving nature more than to take part in a “live 
debate.” 

As real free traders were scarce, Mason, a bril- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


69 


liant young Democrat, requested Radbourn to 
take the side of free trade, and he consented. 
Milton formed the third part of the free trade 
cohort. He liked the fun of trying to debate on 
the opposite side, a thing which would have been 
impossible to Bradley’s more intense and simple- 
hearted nature. What he believed he fought for. 

Mason led off with a discussion of the theory 
of free exchange and made a passionate plea, 
florid and declamatory, which gave Fergusson, a 
cool, pointed, scholarly Norwegian, an excellent 
chance to raise a laugh. He called the attention 
of the house to the ‘‘copperhead Democracy,” 
which the gentleman of the opposition was preach- 
ing. He asked what the practical application 
would mean. Plainly it meant cheap goods. 

“That’s what we want,” interrupted Mason, 
and was silenced savagely by the chairman. 

“England would flood us with cheap goods.” 

“ Let ’em flood,” said somebody unknown, and 
the chairman was helpless. 

Fergusson worked away steadily and was called 
down at last. 

He was distinguished as one of the few men 
who always talked out his ten minutes. 

Radbourn*astonished them all by saying with 
absolute sincerity: “Free trade as a theory is 


70 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


right. Considered as a question of ethics, as a 
question of the trend of things, it’s right. The 
right to trade is as much my right, as my right to 
produce. The one question is whether it ought 
to be put into operation at once. There is no 
reason why the farmer should uphold protection.” 

From this on his remarks had a mysterious 
quality. “I’m a free trader, but I’m not a Demo- 
crat. Tariff tinkering is not free trade, and I 
don’t believe the Democrats would do any more 
than the Republicans, but that aint the question. 
The question is whether the farmers should be 
free traders.” 

After the discussion along familiar lines had 
taken place, Radbourn resumed the chair and 
called on any one in the room to volunteer a word 
on either side. “We would like to hear from 
Talcott,” he said. 

“Talcott, Talcott,” called the rest. 

Bradley rose, as if impelled by some irresistible 
power within himself. He began stammeringly. 
He had but one line of thought at his command, 
and that was the line of thought indicated by 
Miss Wilbur in her speech at the picnic, the 
Home Market idea, upon which he had spent a 
great deal of thought. “Mr. Chairman, I don’t 
believe in free trade. I believe if we had free 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


71 


trade it would make us all farmers for England. 
It aint what we ought t’ do. We’ve got gold in 
our hills, an’ coal an’ timber to manufacture. 
What we want t’ do is to build up our industries ; 
make a home market.” 

As he went on with these stock phrases, he 
seemed to get hold of things which before had 
seemed out of his reach, scraps of speeches, 
newspaper comments, an astonishing flood of 
arguments, or at least what he took for argu- 
ments, came rushing into his mind. He reached 
out his hands and grasped and used phrases not 
his own as if they were bludgeons. He assaulted 
the opposition blindly, but with immense power. 

He sat down amid loud applause, and young 
Mason arose to close the affirmative. He was 
sarcastic to the point of offence. 

“He has said ’em all,” he began, alluding to 
Bradley, “all the regulation arguments of Repub- 
lican newspapers. And as for the leader of the 
opposition, he has got off the usual sneer at cop- 
perhead Democracy. This debate wouldn’t have 
been complete without that remark from my 
esteemed leader of the opposition. Where argu- 
ment fails, misrepresentations and sneers may do 
j^ervice with the injudicious. I trust the judges 
will remember that the argument has been on 


72 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


our side, and the innuendoes on the side of the 
opposition.” 

The verdict of the judges was in favor of the 
free traders, but the decision of the judges had 
less effect on Bradley than the surprising revela- 
tion of Radbourn’s thought. There were phrases 
whose reach and significance he did not realize to 
the full, but their effect was not lost. He never 
forgot such things. 

He was thinking how diametrically opposite 
Miss Wilbur’s ideas were, when Radbourn came 
up, and said with a significant smile : 

“Well, Talcott, you did get hold of all the 
regulation stock material. The Home. Market 
idea is a great field for you. You think a city is 
of itself a good thing .»* You think a city means 
civilization. Well, I want to tell you, and maybe 
you won’t believe me, cities mean vice, and crime, 
and poverty, and vast wealth for the few, and as 
for the Home Market idea, how would it do to let 
the farmer buy in the same market in which he 
sells.? He sells in the world’s market, but you’d 
force him to buy in a protected market.” 

Radbourn went off with a peculiar smile, which 
left Bradley uncertain whether he was laughing at 
him or not. He began from that moment to 
overhaul his stock of phrases, to see if they were 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


73 


really shopworn and worthless. He was growing 
marvellously, his whole nature was now awake. 
He thought, as he sawed wood in the back alleys 
of the town, and at night he toiled at his books. 
Those were great days. New powers were swiftly 
burgeoning. 

Radbourn spoke to several of the politicians of 
the town about Bradley. 

“There is a good deal in that man Talcoft. 
Of course he’s just beginning, but you’ll hear 
from him on the stump. He is an orator that 
reaches people. He has the advantage of most of 
us ; he’s in dead earnest when he’s advocating 
Republicanism.” 

Radbourn had times of saying things like this 
when his hearers didn’t know what to make of 
him. 

“It’s just his way,” some one usually said, and 
the rest sat in silence. They didn’t enjoy it, but 
as Radbourn was not running for any office and 
was known to be a powerful thinker, they thought 
it best not to antagonize him. 

*‘I wonder if he intends the law.!^” asked Judge 
Brown. 

“I see what the Judge is driving at,” Radbourn 
said quickly, “he thinks he can make a Democrat 
of him.” 


74 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The group laughed. Democrats were in a 
hopeless minority, but the judge and Colonel 
Peavey never lost their proselyting zeal. 

“The Judge is always on hand like a sore 
thumb,” said Amos. 

“The Judge’ll be on the right side of the tariff 
one of these fine days, and have the laugh on the 
lot of yeh.” 

“ What y’ idee about that. Rad ^ ” 

“Good heavens! You don’t expect to have 
protection always, do yeh ? ” was his only reply. 

A day or two later he said to Bradley — 

“Talcott, Brown wants to see you. He wants 
to make you a ‘lawyer’s hack’! Now I’d say to 
most men, don’t do it, but if he offers to give you 
a place take it. It won’t be worse than sawing 
wood thirty hours a week.” 

Following Radbourn’s direction he passed up 
a narrow, incredibly grimy stairway, and knocked 
at a door at the end of a hall, whose only light 
came through the letter-slit in the door. 

“Come in !” yelled a snarling voice. 

Bradley entered timidly, for the voice was not 
at all cordial. The Judge, in his own den, was a 
different man from the Judge at Robie’s grocery, 
and this day he was in bad humor. He sat with 
his heels on a revolving book-case, a law-book 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


75 


spread out on his legs, a long pipe in his 
hand. 

If he uttered any words of greeting they were 
lost in the crescendo growl of a fat bull-dog, that 
lay in supple shining length at his feet. 

^^Down with yeh ! ” he snarled at the dog, who 
ceased his growling, but ran lightly and with fero- 
cious suggestiveness toward Bradley and clung 
sniffing about his heels. 

“Si’ down!” the judge said, indicating a chair 
with his pipe, which he held by the bowl. He 
didn’t otherwise make a motion. 

Bradley sat down. This greeting drove him 
back into his usual stubborn silence. He waited 
for developments, his eyes on the dog. 

“Well, young man, what can I do for you ” 
asked the lawyer after a long silence, during 
which he laid down one book, and read a page 
in another. 

“Nothin’, I guess.” 

“Well, what the devil did yeh come in here 
for.?” he inquired, with a glare of astonishment. 
“Want ’o buy a dog.?” 

Bradley was mad. “ I came because Radbourn 
sent me. I c’n git out agin, mighty quick.” 

The judge took down his heels. “Oh, you’re 
that young orator. Why didn’t yer say so, you 


7G 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


damned young Indian ? ” He now rose and 
walked over to the spittoon before going on. 
Bradley knew that this rough tone was entirely 
different from the first. It was a sort of affec- 
tionate blackguardism. “ I heard you speak last 
Friday. All you need, young man, is a chance to 
swing y’r elbows. You want room according to 
y’r strength, but you never’d find it in the Repub- 
lican party. It’s struck with the palsy.” 

The judge had been talking this for two presi- 
dential campaigns and didn’t take himself at all 
seriously. 

“ What are you going to do } ” 

“ I don’t know, yet.” 

“ Do you want ’o study law } ” 

“ I don’t know, sir. Do you think I can be a 
lawyer.^ ” 

** If you’re not too damned honest. If you 
want ’o try it. I’ll make an arrangement with you, 
that will be better than sawing wood anyhow, 
this winter, and you can keep right on with your 
studies. We’ll see what can be done next 
year.” 

The old man had taken a liking to Bradley on 
account of his oratory, and the possibilities of 
making him a Democratic leader had really taken 
possession of him. He had no son of his own. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Ti 


and he took a deep interest in young men of the 
stamp of Milton and Bradley. 

After he reached home that night, Bradley 
extended his ambitions. He dared to hope that 
he might be a lawyer, and an orator, which meant 
also a successful politician to him. Politics to 
him, as to most western men, was the greatest 
concern of life, and the city of Washington the 
Mecca whose shining dome lured from afar. To 
go to Washington was equivalent to being born 
again. A man can do anything if he thinks so 
and tries hard,” he thought, following Radbourn’s 
words. ^ 

He bustled about cheerily, cooking his fried 
pototoes and scraps of meat, and boiling his tea. 
The dim light made his large face softer and 
more thoughtful than it had appeared before, and 
his cheerfulness over his lonely meal typed forth 
the sublime audacity, profound ignorance, and 
pathetic faith with which such a man faces the 
world’s millions and dares to hope for success. 


78 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


VI. 

BRADLEY ATTENDS A CONVENTION. 

On a dreamful September day of the following- 
year, Bradley was helping Milton Jennings to dig 
potatoes. It was nearly time for his return to 
school and to Judge Brown’s office, and the two 
young men were full of plans. Milton was 
intending to go back for another year, and Brad- 
ley intended to keep up with his studies if possi^ 
ble, and retain his place with Brown also. 

“Say,” broke out Milton suddenly, “we ought 
to attend this convention.” 

“ What convention } ” 

“Why, the nominating convention at Rock. 
Father’s going this afternoon. I never’ve been. 
Let’s go with him.” 

“That won’t dig taters,” smiled Bradley in his 
slow way. 

“Darn the taters. If we’re goin’ into politics 
we want ’o know all about things.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


79 


‘‘ That’s so. I would like to go if your father’ll 
let us off on the taters.” 

Mr. Jennings made no objection. It’ll be a 
farce, though, the whole thing.” 

Why so V 

“I’ll tell you on the way down. Git the team 
ready and we’ll take neighbor Councill in.” 

Bradley listened to Mr. Jennings’ explanation 
with an interest born of his expanding ambition. 
His marvellously retentive mind absorbed every 
detail and the situation cleared in his mind. 

For sixteen years the affairs of the country had 
been managed by a group of persuasive, well- 
dressed citizens of Rock River, who played into 
each other’s hands and juggled with the county’s 
money with such adroitness and address that their 
reign seemed hopelessly permanent to the discon- 
tented and suspicious farmers of the county. 
Year after year they saw these gentlemen build- 
ing new houses, opening banks, and buying in 
farm mortgages “all out of the county,” many 
grangers asserted. 

Year after year the convention assembled, and 
year after year the delegates from the rural town- 
ships came down to find their duties purely per- 
functory, simply to fill up the seats. They always 
found the slate made up and fine speakers ready 


80 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


to put it through with a rush of ready applause, 
before which the slower-spoken, disorganized 
farmers were well-nigh helpless. It was a case of 
perfect organization against disorganization and 
mutual distrust. Banded officialism fighting to 
keep its place against the demands of a disorgan- 
ized righteous mob of citizens. Office is always 
a trained command. The intrenched minority is 
capable of a sort of rock-like resistance. 

Rock River and its neighboring village of 
Cedarville, by pooling together could tie the con- 
vention, and in addition to these towns they 
always controlled several of the outlying town- 
ships by judicious flattery of their self-constituted 
managers, who were given small favors, put on 
the central committee, and otherwise made to feel 
that they were leading men in the township ; and 
it was beginning to be stated that the county 
treasurer had regularly bribed other influential 
whippers-in, by an amiable remission of taxes. 

“Why don’t you fight ’em.^” asked Milton, 
after Mr. Jennings had covered the whole, ground 
thoroughly. 

Councill laughed. “We’ve been a-fightin’ um ; 
suppose you try.” 

“Give us a chance, and we’ll do our part. 
Won’t we, Brad.?” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


81 


Bradley nodded, and so committed himself to 
the fight. He was fated to begin his political 
career as an Independent Republican. 

On the street they met other leading grangers 
of the county, and it became evident that there 
was a deep feeling of resentment present. They 
gathered in knots on the sidewalks that led ’ up 
under the splendid maples that lined the sidewalks 
leading toward the court-house. 

The court-house was of the usual pseudo-classic 
style of architecture, that is to say, it was a brick 
building with an ambitious facade of four wooden 
fluted columns. Its halls echoed to the voices 
and footsteps of the crowd that passed up its 
broad, worn and grimy steps into the court-room 
itself, which was grimier and more hopelessly 
filthy than the staircase with its stratified accumu- 
lations of cigar stubs and foul sawdust. Its seats 
were benches hacked and carved like the desks of 
a country schoolhouse. Nothing could be more 
barren, more desolate. It had nothing to relieve 
it save the beautiful stains of color that seemed 
thrown upon the windows by the crimson and 
orange maples which stood in the yard. 

They found the room full of delegates, among 
whom there was going on a great deal of excited 
conversation. From a side room near the Judge’s 


82 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


bench there issued, from time to time, messengers 
who came out among the general mob, and invited 
certain flattered and useful delegates to come in 
and meet with the central committee. There was 
plainly a division in the house. 

The rusty cusses are on their ears to-day,” 
said Milton, “and there’s going to be fun.” His 
blue eyes were beaming with laughter, and his 
quick wit kept those who were within hearing on 
the broad grin.” 

“ Goin’ to down ’em t’ day ? ” he asked of 
Councill. 

“We’re goin’ t’ try.” 

In one dishonest way or another the ring had 
kept its hold upon the county, notwithstanding 
all criticism, and now came to the struggle with 
smiling confidence. They secured the chairman 
by the ready-made quick vote, by acclamation 
for re-election. The president then appointed 
the committee upon credentials and upon nomin- 
ations, and the work of the convention was 
opened. 

The committee on nominations, in due course 
presented its slate as usual, but here the real 
battle began. Bradley suddenly found himself 
tense with interest. His ancestry must have been 
a race of orators and politicians, for the atmos- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


83 


phere of the convention roused him till it trans- 
formed him. 

Here was the real thing. No mere debate, but 
a fight. There was battle in the air, now blue 
with smoke and rank with the reek of tobacco. 
There was fight in the poise of the grizzled heads 
and rusty, yellow shoulders of the farmers who 
had now fallen into perfect silence. In looking 
over them one might have been reminded of a 
field of yellow-gray boulders. 

Colonel Russell moved the election of the entire 
slate, as presented by the nominating committee, 
in whom, he said, the convention had the utmost 
confidence. Four or fiv^e farmers sprang to their 
feet instantly and Osmond Deering got the floor. 
When he began speaking the loafers in the gallery 
stopped their chewing in excess of interest. He 
was one of the most influential men in the 
county. 

“ Mr. President,” he began in his mild way, “ I 
don’t want to seem captious about this matter, 
but I want to remind this convention that this is 
the eighth-year that almost the same identical slate 
has been presented to the farmers of Rock County 
and passed against our wishes. It isn’t right that 
it should pass again. It shan’t pass without my 
protest.” Applause. ‘‘This convention has been 


84 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


robbed of its right to nominate every year, and 
every year we’ve gone home feeling we’ve been 
made cat’s paws of, for the benefit of a few citi- 
zens of Rock River. I protest against the slate. 
I claim the right to nominate my man. I don’t 
intend to have a committee empowered to take 
away my rights to ” — 

The opposition raised a clamor, “Question! 
Question I ” attempting to force a vote, but the 
old man, carried out of himself by his excitement, 
shook his broad flat hand in the air, and cried : 
“I have the floor, gentlemen, and I propose to 
keep it.” The farmers applauded. “I say to this 
convention, vote down this motion and set down 
on the old-fashioned slate-making committee busi- 
ness. It aint just, it aint right, and I protest 
against it.” 

He sat down to wild excitement, his supporters 
trying to speak, the opposition crying, “Question, 
Question.” Several fiery speeches were made by 
leading grangers, but they were met by a cool, 
smooth persuasive speech from the chairman of 
the nominating committee, who argued that it was 
not to be supposed that this committee chosen by 
this convention would bring in a slate which 
would not be a credit and honor to the country. 
True, they were mainly from Rock River and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


85 


Cedarville ; but it must be remembered that the 
population of the county was mainly in these 
towns, and that no ticket could succeed which did 
not give a proper proportion of representation to 
these towns. These men could not be surpassed 
in business ability. They were old in their office, 
it was true, but the affairs of the county were 
passing through a critical period in their history, 
and it was an old and well-tried saying: “Never 
swap horses in the midst of a stream,” anyhow, 
he was content to leave the matter to the vote of 
this convention. 

The vote carried the slate through by a small 
majority, leaving the farmers again stunned and 
helpless, and the further business of the conven- 
tion was to restore peace and good-will, as far as 
possible among the. members. It was amazing to 
Bradley to find how easily he could be swayed by 
the plausible speeches of the gentlemanly chair- 
man of the nominating committee. It was a 
great lesson to him in the power of oratory. The 
slate was put through simply by the address of 
the chairman of the committee. 

On the way out they met Councill and Jen- 
nings walking out with Chairman Russell, who 
had his hand on a shoulder of each, and was say- 
ing, with beautiful candor and joviality: “Well, 


86 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


we beat you again. It’s all fair in politics, you 
know.” 

“Yes, but it’s the last time,” said Jennings, 
who refused to smile. “We can’t give this the 
go-by.” 

“Oh, well, now, neighbor Jennings, you mustn’t 
take it too hard ; you know these men are good 
capable men.” 

“They are capable enough,” put in Deering, 
“but we want a change.” 

“Then make it,” laughed Russell, good-na- 
turedly defiant. 

“We will, make it, bet y’r boots,” said Amos 
Ridings. 

“Let’s see yeh,” was Russell’s parting word, 
delivered with a jaunty wave of his hand. 

The farmers rode home f-ull of smoldering 
wrath. They were in fighting humor, and only 
needed an organizer to become a dangerous force. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


87 


VII. 

THE FARMERS OUST THE RING. 

The following Saturday Bradley, who was still 
at work with Milton, saw Amos Ridings gallop up 
and dismount at the gate, and call Jennings out, 
and during the next two hours, every time he 
looked up he saw them in deep discussion out by 
the pig pen. Part of the time Jennings faced 
Amos, who leaned against the fence and whittled 
a stick, and part of the time he talked to Jen- 
nings who leaned back against the fence on his 
elbows, and studied Amos whittling the rail. 
Mrs. Jennings at last called them all to din- 
ner, and still the question remained apparently 
unsolved, though they changed the conversation 
to crops and the price of wheat. 

Brad, set down here and make a lot o’ copies 
of this call. Milt, you help him.” 

The call read : 


88 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“A New Deal. Reform in County Politics.” 

A mass convention of the citizens of Rock County will be 
held at Rock Creek Grove on September 28th, for the purpose of 
nominating a people’s ticket. All who favor reform in politics 
and rebel against the ring-rule of our county officers are invited 
to be present. Per order, 

Amos Ridings, 

John Jennings, 

William Councill, 

People's Committee. 


“What’s all this.!*” asked Milton of his father. 

“ We’re going to have a convention of our 
own.” 

“We’re on the war path,” said Amos grimly. 
“ We’ll make them fellers think hell’s t’ pay and 
no pitch hot.” 

After dinner Amos took a roll of the copies of 
the call and rode away to the north, and Jennings 
hitched up his team and drove away to the south. 
Milton and Bradley went back to their corn-husk- 
ing, feeling that they were “small petaters.” 

“They don’t intend to let us into it, that’s 
dead sure,” said Milton. “All the samee, I know 
the scheme. They’re going to bolt the conven- 
tion, and there’ll be fun in the air.” 

The county w^oke up the next morning to find 
its schoolhouse doors proclaiming a revolt of the 
farmers, and the new deal was the talk of the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


89 


county. It was the grange that had made this 
revolt possible. This general intelligence and 
self-cognizance was the direct result of the work 
of the grange. It had brought the farmers 
together, and had made them acquainted with their 
own men, their own leaders, and when they came 
together a few days later, under the open sky, 
like the Saxon thanes of old, there was a spirit of 
rebellion in the air that made every man look his 
neighbor in the face with exultation. 

It was a perfectly Democratic meeting. They 
came together that beautiful September day, 
under the great oaks, a witenagemote of serious, 
liberty-loving men, ready to follow wherever their 
leaders pointed. 

Amos Ridings was the chairman, tall, grim- 
lipped and earnest-eyed. His curt speech carried 
the convention with him. His platform was a 
wagon box, and he stood there with his hat off, 
the sun falling upon his shock of close-clipped 
stiff hair, making a powerful and resolute figure 
with a touch of poetry in his face. 

“Fellow-citizens, we’ve come together here 
to-day to organize to oust the ring that has held 
our county affairs in their hands so long. We 
can oust them if we’ll stand together. If we 
don’t, we can’t. I believe_we will stand together. 


90 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The grange has learned us something. It’s made 
us better acquainted with each other. An’ the 
time has come f’r a fight. The first thing is 
a permanent chairman. Who’ll y’ have for 
chairman } ” 

I nominate Amos Ridings.” 

“ Second the motion,” cried two voices in 
quick succession. 

The chairman’s grim visage did not relax. He 
had no time for false delicacy. “ Are y’ ready f r 
the question ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” shouted the crowd. 

“All in favor, say ‘Aye’.” 

There was a vast shout of approval. 

Contrary minds ‘No! It’s a vote.” 

The other officers were elected in the same 
way. They were there for business. They passed 
immediately to the nominations, and there was 
the same unanimity all down the ticket until the 
nominations for the county auditor began. 

'A small man lifted his hand and cried, “I nom- 
inate James McGann of Rock for auditor.” 

There was a little silence followed by murmurs 
of disapproval. The first false note had been 
struck. Someone seconded the motion. The 
chairman’s gavel fell. 

“ I want to ask the secretary to take the chair 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


91 


for a few minutes,” he said, and there was some- 
thing in his voice that meant business. Some- 
thing ominous. The delegates pressed closer. 
The secretary took the chair. “I’ve got some- 
thing to say right here,” Ridings began. 

“ Fellow-citizens, we’re here in a big fight. We 
can’t afford t’ make any mistake. We can’t afford 
to be tolled off the track by a bag of anise seed. 
Who is the man makin’ this motion } Does any- 
body know him } I do. He’s a spy. He’s sent 
here f’r a purpose. Suppose he’d nominated a 
better man ? His motion would have been out of 
place. His nomination of Jim McGann was a 
trick. Jim McGann can’t git a pound o’ sugar on 
credit in his own town. He never had any credit 
n’r influence. Why was he nominated ? Simply 
to make us ridiculous — a laughin’ stock. I want 
to put you on your guard. If we win it’s got t’ 
be in a straight fight. That’s all I’ve got t’ say. 
Recognize no nomination that don’t come from a 
man y’ know.” 

The convention clamored its approval, and the 
small spy and trickster slunk away and disap- 
peared. There was a certain majesty in the action 
of this group of roused farmers. Nominations 
were seconded and ratified with shouts, even down 
through the most important officers in the county 


92 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


and town. It was magnificent to see how deep 
was the harmony of action. 

Deering was forced to accept the nomination 
for treasurer by this feeling of the unanimity 
and genuineness which pervaded each succeeding 
action, and when the vote was called, and the men 
thrust their hands in the air and shouted, they 
had something of the same feeling that lay at the 
heart of the men of Uri, and Unterwalden, and 
Schwyz when they shouted their votes together 
in the valley with the mighty cordon of guarding 
mountains around them. 

The grange had made this convention and its 
magnificent action possible. Each leading mem- 
ber of the grange, through its festivals, and pic- 
nics, and institutes, had become known to the 
rest, and they were able to choose their leaders 
instantly. The ticket as it stood was very strong. 
Deering as treasurer and Councill as sheriff, 
insured success so far as these officers were 
concerned. 

On the way home Councill shouted back at the 
young men riding with Jennings: “Now’s a good 
time for you young chaps t’ take the field and 
lectioneer while we nominees wear biled collars, 
and set in the parlor winder.” 

“What you want to do is stay at home and dig 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


93 


taters,” shouted Milton. ‘*A biled collar would 
defeat any one of yeh, dead sure.” 

This was, in fact, the plan of the campaign. 

Amos Ridings assumed practical direction of 
it. 

“Now we don’t want a candidate to go out — 
not once. Every man stay at home and not open 
his head. We’ll do the work. You tend your 
knittin’ and we’ll elect yeh.” 

The boys went out on Friday nights, to election- 
eer for the Granger ticket, as it was called. 

“It’s boss fun,” Milton said to his father. 
“ It’s ahead o’ husking corn. It does tickle me to 
see the future sheriff of the county diggin’ per- 
taters while I’m ridin’ around in my best clo’es 
makin’ speeches.” 

“We’ll have the whip-row on you when we get 
into office,” replied Mr. Jennings. 

“Don’t crow till y’r out o’ the woods,” laughed 
Milton. 

The boys really aroused considerable enthusi- 
asm, and each had stanch admirers, though they 
were entirely opposed in style. Milton told a 
great many funny stories, and went off on what 
he considered to be the most approved oratorical 
flights. He called on the farmers to stand 
together. He asked them whether it was fair 


94 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


that the town should have all the offices. In 
short, he made very taking political harangues. 

Bradley always arose in the same slow way. 
He was a little heavy in getting started. His 
deep voice was thick and husky at beginning, but 
cleared as he went on. His words came slowly, 
as if each were an iron weight. He dealt in 
facts — or what he believed to be facts. He had 
carefully collated certain charges which had been 
made against the officials of the county, and in 
his perfectly fearless way of stating them, there 
was immense power. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


95 


VIII. 

BRADLEY OFFENDS NETTIE’s FATHER. 

It was a singular thing to see the farmers sud- 
denly begin to ask themselves why they should 
stand quietly by while the townsmen monopolized 
all the offices and defied the farmers to make a 
change. They laughed at the charges of chican- 
ery in office, and openly said that “ no man with 
corns on his hands and hayseed in his hair can be 
elected to office in the county.” This speech 
was of the greatest value to the young champions. 
It became their text. 

The speech that made Bradley famous among 
the farmers came about the middle of October. 
It was an open-air meeting in the Cottonwood 
township, one Saturday afternoon. He and Mil- 
ton drove out to their appointment in a carriage 
which Milton had borrowed. It was a superb 
Indian summer day, and they were both very 
happy. Each had his individual way of showing 
it. Milton put his heels on the dash-board, and 


96 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


sung or whistled all the way out, stopping only 
occasionally to say : 

“Aint this boss? This is what I call doin’ a 
thing up brown. . Wish I could do this for a 
stiddy business.” 

Bradley smiled at his companion’s fun. He 
felt the pride and glory of it all, but he couldn’t 
express it as Milton did. It was such a magnifi- 
cent thing to be thus selected to push on a cam- 
paign. The mere idea of the crowd waiting out 
there for their arrival had something royal in 
it. And then this riding away into a practically 
unknown part of the county to speak before 
perfect strangers had an epic quality. Great 
things seemed coming to him. 

They found quite an assembly of farmers, not- 
withstanding the busy season. It showed how 
deep was the interest in the campaign, and Milton 
commented upon it in beginning his speech. 

If a farmer ever gets his share of things, he’s 
got to take time to turn out to caucuses and meet- 
ings, and especially he’s got to stop work and 
vote.” 

Bradley arose after Milton’s speech, which 
pleased the farmers with its shrewdness and drol- 
lery, feeling at a great disadvantage. 

“My colleague,” he began (preserving the for- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


97 


mality of the Delta Society debates), “has told 
you of the ring that has controlled the officers of 
this county for so long, but he hasn’t told you of 
the inside facts. I aint fightin’ in this campaign 
to put the town people out and the farmers in; 
I’m fightin’ to put thieves out and honest men 
in.” 

This was a blow straight out from the shoulder 
and was followed by great applause. But a few 
voices cried : 

“ Take that back ! ” 

“ I won’t take anything back that I know is the 
truth.” 

“Yes, you will! That’s a lie, an’ you know 
it ! ” shouted an excited man a short distance 
away. 

“ Let me tell you a story,” Bradley went on 
slowly. “ Last session of court a friend of mine 
was on the jury. When court adjourned, he took 
his order on the county to the treasurer and asked 
for his pay. The treasurer said, *Tm sorry, 
but they aint any funds left for the jurors’ 
fees.’ ” 

“‘Can’t you give me some out of some other 
fund > ’ ” 

“‘No, that won’t do — can’t do that.’ 

“‘Well, when will yeh have some money in.?’ 


98 


A SPOIL OP OFFICE. 


“‘Well, it’s hard tellin’ — in two or three 
months, probably.’ 

“‘Well, I’d like the money on this order. I 
need it. Can’t I git somebody to cash it for me } ’ 

“ ‘ Well, I dunno. I guess they’ll take it at the 
store. My brother John might cash it — possi- 
bly, as an accommodation.’ 

“Well, my friend goes over to Brother John’s 
bank, and Brother John cashes the order, and 
gives him eight dollars for it. Brother John then 
turns in the order to the treasurer and gets 
twelve dollars for it, and then they ‘divvy’ on the 
thing. Now, how’s that for a nice game 

“It’s a damn lie!” shouted an excited man in 
the foreground. He had his sleeves rolled up 
and kept up a continual muttering growl. 

“ It’s the truth,” repeated Bradley. There was 
a strong Russell contingent in the meeting, and 
they were full of fight. The angry man in front 
repeated his shout : 

“That’s a lie! Take it back, or I’ll yank yeh 
off’n that wagon box.” 

“ Come and try it,” said Bradley, throwing off 
his coat. 

The excitement had reached the point where 
blows begin. Several irresponsible fellows were 
urging their companion on. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


99 


“Jump’im! Jump ’im, Hank ! We’ll see fair 
play.” 

‘‘ Stand yer ground, Brad ! ” shouted the 
friends of the speaker. “We’ll see they come 
one at a time.” 

“ Oh, see here ! No fightin’,” shouted others. 
The man Hank was not to be silenced. He 
pushed his way to the wagon-wheel and shook his 
extended fist at the speaker. 

“Take that back, you” — 

Bradley caught him by his uplifted wrist, and 
bracing himself against the wheel, jerked his 
assailant into the wagon-box, and tumbled him 
out in a disjointed heap on the other side before 
he could collect his scattered wits. 

Then Bradley stood up in his splendid height 
and breadth. “ I say it’s the truth ; and if there 
are any more rowdies who want ’o try yankin’ me 
out o’ this wagon, now’s your time. You never’ll 
have a better chance.” Nobody seemed anxious. 
The cheers of the crowd and the young orator’s 
determined attitude discouraged them. “Now 
I’ll tell yeh who the man was who presented that 
order. It was William Bacon ; mebbe some o’ 
you fellers want to tell him he lies.” 

He finished his speech without any marked 
interruption, and was roundly congratulated by 


100 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the farmers. On the way back to Rock River, 
however, he seemed very much depressed, while 
Milton exulted over it all. 

“Gosh! I wish I had your muscle, old man I I 
ain’t worth a cent in things like that. Caesar! 
But you snatched him bald-headed.” 

“Makes me feel sick,” Bradley said. “I ain’t 
had but one squabble before since I was a boy. 
It makes me feel like a plug-ugly.” 

Milton was delighted with it all. It made such 
a capital story to tell ! “ Say Brad, do you know 

what I thought of when you was yankin’ that fel- 
ler over the wheel.'* Scaldin’ hogs ! You pulled 
on him just as if he was a three-hundred pound 
shote. It was funny as all time ! ” 

But Bradley had trouble in going to sleep that 
night, thinking about it. He was wondering what 
She would have thought of him in that disgraceful 
row. 'He tried to remember whether he swore or 
not. He felt, even in the darkness, her grave, 
sweet eyes fixed upon him in a sorrowful, disap- 
pointed way, and it made him groan and turn his 
face to the wall, to escape the picture of himself 
standing there in the wagon, with his coat off, 
shouting back at a band of rowdies. 

But the story spread, and it pleased the farmers 
immensely. The boldness of the charge and the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE,. 


101 


magnificent muscle that backed it up took hold of 
the people’s imagination strongly, and added very 
greatly to his fame. 

When the story reached Judge Brown, he was 
deeply amused. On the following Monday morn- 
ing, as Brad was writing away busily, the Judge 
entered the room, 

“ Well, Brad, they say you called the Russells 
thieves.” 

“ I guess perhaps I did.” 

“Well, aint that goin’ to embarrass you a little 
when — when you’re calling on Nettie.^” 

“I aint a-goin’ to call there any more.” 

“Oh, I see! Expect the colonel to call on you, 
eh.?” 

“I don’t care what he does,” Bradley cried, 
turning and facing his employer. “ I said what I 
know to be the truth. I call it thieving, and if 
they don’t like it, they can hate it. I aint a-goin’ 
to back down an inch, as long as I know what I 
know.” 

“That’s right!” chuckled the Judge. As a 
Democrat, he rejoiced to see a Republican ring 
assaulted. “ Go ahead. I’ll stand by you, if they 
try the law.” 


102 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


IX. 

BRADLEY MEETS MRS. BROWN. 

Though Bradley had called a good many times 
at the Russell house, to accompany Nettie to par- 
ties or home from school, yet he had never had 
any conversation to speak of with Russell, who 
was a large and somewhat pompous man. He 
knew his place, as a Western father, and never 
interfered with. his daughter’s love affairs. He 
knew Bradley as a likely and creditable young 
fellow, and besides, his experience with his two 
older daughters had taught him the perfect use- 
lessness of trying to marry them to suit himself 
or his wife. 

He was annoyed at this attack of Bradley upon 
him and his brother, the treasurer. It was really 
carrying things too far. Accustomed to all sorts 
of epithets and charges on the part of opposing 
candidates, he ought not to have been so sensitive 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


103 


to Bradley’s charge, but the case was peculiar. 
It was exactly true, in the first place, and then it 
came from a young man whom his daughter had 
brought into the family, and whom he had begun 
to think of as a probable son-in-law. 

On Tuesday morning, just as Bradley was tum- 
bling his dishes into a pan of hot water (“their 
weekly bath,” Milton called it), there came a 
sharp knock on the door, and a girl’s voice called 
out clearly : 

“Hello, Brad! Can I come in.^^” 

“Yes, come in.” 

Nettie came in, her cheeks radiant with color, 
her eyes shining. Oh, washing your dishes 1 
Wait a minute. I’ll help.” She flung off her 
coat in a helter-skelter way, and rolled up her 
sleeves. 

Bradley expostulated : “No, nor! Don’t do that ! 
I’ll have ’em done in a jiffy. They aint but a 
few.” 

“I’ll wipe ’em, anyway,” she replied. “Oh, 
fun ! What a towel ! ” she held up the side of a 
flour-sack, on which was a firm-name in brown 
letters. She laughed in high glee. There was a 
delicious suggestion in the fact that she was 
standing by his side helping him in his household 
affairs. 


104 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Bradley was embarrassed, but she chattered 
away, oblivious of space and time. Her regard 
for him had grown absolutely outspoken and with- 
out shame. There was something primitive and 
savage in her frank confession of her feelings. 
She had come to make all the advances herself, 
in a confidence that was at once beautiful and 
pathetic. She met him in the morning on the 
way to school, and clung to him at night, and 
made him walk home with her. She came after- 
noons with a team, to take him out driving. The 
presence of the whole town really made no differ- 
ence to her. She took his arm just the same, 
proud and happy that he permitted it. 

“Oh, say,” she broke off suddenly, “pa wants 
to see you about something. He wanted me to 
tell you to come down to-night.” She was dust- 
ing the floor at the moment, while he was mov- 
ing the furniture. “ I wonder what he wants } ” 
she asked. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, evasively. 

“Something about politics, I suppose.” She 
came over and stood beside him in silence. She 
was very girlish, in spite of her assumption of a 
young lady’s dress and airs, and she loved him 
devouringly She stood so close to him that she 
could put her hand on his, as it lay on the table. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


105 


Her clear, sweet eyes gazed at him with the con- 
fidence and purity of a child. 

It was a relief to Bradley to hear the last bell 
ring. She withdrew her hand and threw down 
the broom which she had been holding in her left 
hand. “Oh, that’s the last bell. Help me on 
with my cloak, quick ! ” He put her cloak on for 
her. She stamped her foot impatiently. “Pull 
my hair outside ! ” 

He took her luxuriant hair in both his hands, 
and pulled it outside the cloak, and fitted the col- 
lar about her neck. She caught both his hands 
in hers, and looking up, laughed gleefully. 

“ You dassent kiss me now ! ” 

He stooped and kissed her cheek, and blushed 
with shame. On the way up the walk to the 
chapel, he suffered an agony of remorse. He 
felt dimly that he had done his ideal an irrepara- 
ble wrong. Nettie talked on, not minding his 
silence, looking up into his face in innocent glee, 
planning some new party or moonlit drive. 

All that morning he was too deep in thought 
to give attention to his classes, and at noon he 
avoided Nettie, and went home to think, but try 
as he might, something prevented him from get- 
ting hold of the real facts in the case. 

He was fond of Nettie. She stood near him. 


106 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


an embodied passion. His love for Miss Wilbur, 
which he had no idea of calling love, was a vague 
and massive feeling of adoration, entirely disasso- 
ciated from the flesh. She stood for him as the 
embodiment of a world of longings and aspira- 
tions undeveloped and undefined. 

One thought was clear. He ought not to 
allow — that is the way it took shape in his 
mind — he ought not to allow Nettie to be seen 
with him so much, unless he intended to marry 
her, and he had never thought of her as a possible 
wife. 

He didn’t know how to meet Russell, so put 
off going down to his house, as he had promised. 
He excused himself by saying he was busy mov- 
ing, anyway. He had determined upon taking a 
boarding-place somewhere in correspondence with 
his change of fortunes and when he had spoken 
of it, the Judge had said : 

“ Why not come up to my house ? Mrs. Brown 
and I get kind of lonesome sometimes, and then 
I hate to milk an’ curry horses, an’ split kind- 
lings, always did. Come up and try living with 
us.” 

Bradley had accepted the offer with the great- 
est delight. It meant a great deal to him. It 
took him out of a cellar and put him into one of 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


107 


the finest houses in town — albeit it was a cold 
and gloomy house. It was large, and white, and 
square, with sharp gables, and its blinds were 
always closed. He went up to dinner that day 
with the judge, to meet Mrs. Brown, whom he 
had never seen ; nobody saw her, for she was a 
perfect recluse. 

She looked at her husband through her glasses 
in a calm surprise, as he introduced Bradley, and 
stated he had invited him to dinner. 

‘‘Well, Mr. Brown, if you will do such things, 
you must expect your company to take every-day 
fare.” 

“ Maybe our every-day fare, Mrs. Brown, will 
be Sunday fare for this young man.” 

They sat down at the table, which Mrs. Brown 
waited upon herself, rising from her place for the 
tea or the biscuits. She said very little there- 
after, but Bradley caught the gleam of her glasses 
fixed upon him several times. She had a beauti- 
ful mouth, but the line of her lips seemed to 
indicate sadness and a determined silence. 

“Mrs. Brown, I wish you’d take care of this 
young man for a few weeks. He’s my clerk, and 
I — ahem! — I — suppose he’s going to milk the 
cow and split the kindlings for me, to pay for his 
board in that useful way.” 


108 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


She looked at him again in silence, and the line 
of her lips got a little straighter, as she waited 
for the Judge to go on. 

*‘This young man is going to study law with 
me, and I hope to make a great man of him, Mrs. 
Brown.” 

“ Mr. Brown, I wish you’d consult with me 
once in a while,” she said without anger. 

‘‘Mrs. Brown, it was a case of necessity. I 
was on the point of giving up the milking of that 
cow, and my back got a crick in it every time I 
split the kindlings. I consider I’ve done you a 
benefit and myself a favor, Mrs. Brown.” 

She turned her glasses upon Bradley again, and 
studied him in silence. She was a very dignified 
woman of fifty. Her hair was like wavy masses 
of molasses candy, and her brow cold and placid. 
Her eyes could not be seen, but her mouth and 
chin were almost girlish in their beauty. 

The Judge felt that he had done a hazardous 
thing. He took a new tone, his reminiscent tone. 
“Mrs. Brown, do you remember the first time 
you saw me.^ Well, I was ‘pirating’ through 
Oberlin — (chopping wood, you remember we 
didn’t saw it in those days) and living in a cellar,- 
just like this young man. He’s been cookin’ his 
own grub, just as I did then, because he hasn’t 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


109 


any money to pay for board. Now I think we 
ought to give him a lift. Don’t you think so, 
Mrs. Brown.?” 

Her mouth relaxed a little. The glasses turned 
upon Bradley again, and looked upon him so 
steadily that he was able to see her gray eyes. 

Mr. Brown is always doing things without con- 
sulting me,” she explained to Bradley, “but you 
are welcome, sir, if our lonesome house aint worse 
than your cellar. Mr. Brown very seldom takes 
the trouble to explain what he wants to do, but 
I’ll try to make you feel at home, sir.” 

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. The 
Judge was evidently thinking over old times, and 
it would be very difficult to say what his wife was 
thinking of. At last, he rose saying: 

“ Now if you’ll come out, I’ll show you the well 
and the cow.” As he went by his wife’s chair, 
he stopped a moment, and said gently, “ He’ll do 
us two lonely old fossils good, Elizabeth.” His 
hand lay on her shoulder an instant as he passed, 
and when Bradley went out of the room, he saw 
her wiping her eyes upon her handkerchief, her 
glasses in her hand. 

The Judge coughed a little. “We never had 
but one child — a boy. He was killed while out 
hunting” — he broke off quickly. “Now here’s 


110 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the meal for the cow. I give her about a panful 
twice a dgy — when I don’t forget it.” 

Somehow, Mrs. Brown didn’t seem so hard 
when he met her again at supper. The line of 
her mouth was softer. In his room he found 
many little touches of her motherly hand — a 
clean, sweet bed, and little hand-made things upon 
the wall, that made him think of his own mother, 
who had been dead since his sixteenth year. He 
had never had such a room as this. It appeared 
to him as something very fine. Its frigid atmos- 
phere and lack of grace and charm did not appear 
to his eyes. It was nothing short of princely 
after his cellar. 

His knowledge of the inner life, of the common 
Western homes made him feel that this rigid cold- 
ness between the Judge and his wife was only 
their way. The touch of the Judge’s hand on her 
shoulder meant more than a thousand worn 
phrases spoken every day. Under that silence 
and reserve there was a deep of tenderness and 
wistful longing which they could not utter, 
and dared not acknowledge, even to themselves. 
Their lonely house had grown intolerable, and 
Bradley came into it bringing youth and sunlight. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


1 . 3-1 


X. 

A COUNTRY POLLING PLACE. 

The suffering of the county papers was acute. 
They had supported the incumbents ” for so 
long, and had derived a reciprocal support so long, 
that they could not bring themselves to a decision. 
The Democratic paper, the Call^ was too feeble to 
be anything distinctive at this stage of its career 
Chard Foster had not yet assumed control of it. 
It lent a half-hearted support to the Independent 
movement, and justified its action on the ground 
that it was really a Democratic movement leading 
toward reform, and it assumed to be the only 
paper advocating reform. The other paper, une- 
quivocally Republican, supported the regular ticket 
with that single-heartedness of enmity, born of 
bribery, or that ignorance which shuts out any 
admission that the other side has a case. 

The Oak Grove schoolhouse was the real storm- 


J32 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


centre of the election, and there was a great 
crowd there all day. It was a cold, raw day. 
The men and boys all came in their overcoats and 
stood about on the leeward side of the school- 
house — where a pale sunlight fell — and scuffled, 
and told stories, and bet cookies and apples on 
the election. 

Some of the boys made up fires out in the 
woods near by, to which they ran whooping when- 
ever the cold became intolerable. They crouched 
around the flames with a weird return of ances- 
tral barbarism and laughed when the smoke puffed 
out into their faces. They made occasional for- 
ages in company with boys who lived near, after 
eggs, and apples, and popcorn, which they placed 
before the fire and ate spiced with ashes. 

Horsemen galloped up at intervals, bringing 
encouraging news of other voting places. Teams 
clattered up filled with roughly-dressed farmers, 
who greeted the other voters with loud and hearty 
shouts. They tumbled out of the wagons, voted 
riotously, and then clattered back into the corn- 
fields to their work, with wild hurrahs for the 
granger ticket. 

The schoolhouse itself roared with laughter and 
excited talk, and the big stove in the centre 
devoured its huge chunks of wood, making the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


113 


heat oppressive near it. No presidential election 
had ever brought out such throngs of voters, or 
produced such interested discussion. 

Bradley had been made clerk. His capital 
handwriting and knowledge of book-keeping 
made him a valuable man for that work. He sat 
behind his desk with the books before him, and 
impassively performed his duties, but it was his 
first public appointment, and he was really deeply 
gratified. He felt paid for all his year’s hard 
study. 

About two o’clock, when the voters were thick- 
est at the polls, a man galloped up with an excited 
air, and reining in his foaming horse, yelled : 

“Deering has withdrawn in favor of Russell! ” 
The crowd swarmed out. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Who spoke } ” 

“Deering has withdrawn in favor of Russell. 
Cast your votes for Russell,” repeated the man, 
and plunged off up the road. 

The farmers looked at each other. “ What the 
hell’s all this ? ” said Smith. 

“ Who was it ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ He’s a liar, whoever he is,” said Councill. 
“ Where’ve I seen him before ? ” 


114 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“I know — it’s Deering’s hired man." 

“You don’t say so!" This seemed like the 
truth. 

“I know who it is — it’s Sam Harding," 
shouted Milton. “But that aint Deering’s horse. 
It’s a Republican trick. Jump y’r horse there, 
Councill." He was carried out of himself by his 
excitement and anger. The men leaped upon 
their horses. 

“ Some o’ you fellers take his back trail," 
shouted Councill. “He come from Shell-rock 
and Hell’s Corner." 

The men saw the whole trick. This man had 
been sent out to the most populous of the county 
voting places to spread a lying report, trusting to 
the surprise of the announcement to carry a few 
indecisive votes for Russell. 

Other men leaped their horses and rode off on 
Harding’s back trail, while Councill, Milton, and 
old man Bacon rode away after him. Bacon 
growled as he rode : 

“ I’m agin you fellers, but by God ! I b’lieve in 
a square game. If I kin git my paw on that 
houn’ ” — 

They rode furiously in the hope of overtaking 
him before he reached the next polling-place. 
Milton was in the lead on his gray colt, a magnifi- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


115 


cent creature. He was light and a fine rider, and 
forged ahead of the elder men. But the “spy” 
was also riding a fine horse, and was riding very 
fast. 

When they reached the next polling-place he 
was just passing out of sight beyond. They 
dashed up, scattering the wondering crowd. 

“ It’s a lie ! It’s a trick ! ” shouted Milton. 
“ Deering wouldn’t withdraw. Cast every vote 
for Deering. It’s all done to fool yeh ! ” 

The others came thundering up. “ It’s a lie ! ” 
they shouted. 

“Come on!” cried Milton, dropping the rein 
on Mark’s neck, and darting away on the trail of 
the false courier. 

The young fellows caught the excitement, and 
every one who had a horse leaped into the saddle 
and clattered after, with whoop and halloo, as if 
they were chasing a wolf. 

The rider ahead suddenly discovered that he 
was being followed, and he urged his horse to a 
more desperate pace along the lane which skirted 
the woods’ edge for a mile, and then turned 
sharply and led across the river. 

Along the lane is the chase led. There was 
something in the grim silence with which Milton 
and Bacon rode in the lead that startled the spy’s 


116 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


guilty heart. He pushed his horse unmercifully, 
hoping to discourage his pursuers. 

Milton’s blood was up now, and bringing the 
flat of his hand down on the proud neck of his 
colt — the first blow he ever struck him, he 
shouted — 

“ Get out o’ this, Mark ! ” 

The magnificent animal threw out his chin, his 
ears laid flat back, he seemed to lower and 
lengthen, his eyes took on a wild glare. The 
air whizzed by Milton’s ears. A wild exultation 
rose in his heart. All the stories of rides and 
desperate men he had ever read came back in a 
vague mass to make his heart thrill. 

Mark’s terrific pace steadily ate up the inter- 
vening distance, and Milton turned the corner 
and thundered down the decline at the very heels 
of the fugitive. 

“Hey! Hold on there!” Milton shouted, as 
he drew alongside and passed the fellow. “ Hold 
on there ! ” 

“Git out o’ my way ! ” was the savage answer. 

“Stop right here!” commanded Milton, rein- 
ing Mark in the way of the other horse. 

The fellow struck Mark. “Git out o’ my 
way ! ” he yelled. 

Milton seized the bit of the other horse and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


117 


held it. The fellow raised his arm and struck 
him twice before Bacon came thundering up. 

“ H’yare ! Damn yeh — none o’ that ! ” 

He leaped from his horse, and running up, tore 
the rider from his saddle in one swift effort. 
The fellow struggled fiercely. 

“ Let go o’ me, ’r I’ll kill yeh ! ” 

Bacon growled something inarticulate as he 
cuffed the man from side to side, shook him like 
a rag, and threw him to the ground. He lay 
there dazed and scared, while Bacon caught his 
horse and tied it to a tree. 

He came back to the fellow as he was ris- 
ing, and again laid his bear-like clutch upon 
him. 

“Who paid you to do this ” he demanded, as 
Councill and the others came straggling up, their 
horses panting with fatigue. 

The fellow struck him in the face. The old 
man lifted him in the air and dashed him to the 
ground with a snarling cry. His gesture was like 
that of one who slams a biting cat upon the floor. 
The man did not rise. 

“You’ve killed him!” cried Milton. 

“Damn ’im — I don’t care!” 

The man was about thirty-five years of age, a 
slender, thin-faced man with tobacco-stained whis- 


118 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


kers. The fellows knew him for a sneaking fel- 
low, but they plead for him. 

“Don’t hit ’im agin, Bacon. He’s got enough.” 

The fellow sat up and looked around. The 
blood was streaming from his nose and from a 
wound in his head. He had a savage and hunted 
look. He was unsubdued, but was too much 
dazed to be able to do anything more than swear 
at them all. 

“What a’ yuh chasen’ me fur, y’ damn cow- 
ards } Six on one ! ” 

“What’re you do-un ridin’ across the country 
like this fur 

“None o’ your business, you low-lived” — 

Bacon brought the doubled leading-strap which 
he held in his hand down over the fellow’s 
shoulders with a sounding slap. 

“What you need is a sound tannun,” he said. 
He plied the strap in perfect silence upon the 
writhing man, who swore and yelled, but dared 
not rise. 

“Give him enough of it !” yelled the crowd. 

“Give the fool enough!” 

Bacon worked away with a curious air of taking 
a job. The strap fell across the man’s upheld 
hands and over his shoulders, penetrating even 
the thick coat he wore — but it was not the blows 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


119 


that quelled him, it was the look in Bacon’s eyes. 
He saw that the old man would stand there till 
sunset and ply that strap. 

“ Hold on ! Dam yeh — y’ want ’o kill me ? ” 

“ Got ’nough ” 

*‘Yes, yes ! My God, yes !” 

“Climb onto that horse there.” 

He climbed upon his horse, and with Bacon 
leading it, rode back along the road he had come, 
covered with blood. 

“Now I want you to say with y’r own tongue 
ye lied,” Bacon said, as they came to the last poll- 
ing-place he had passed. 

The crowd came rushing out with excited 
questions. 

“ What y’ got there. Bacon } ” 

“ A liar. Come, what ye goun’t’ say ? ” he 
asked the captive. 

“I lied — Deering aint withdrawn.” 

They rode on, Councill and Milton following 
Bacon and his prisoner. At the Oak Grove 
schoolhouse a great crowd had gathered, and they 
came out in a swarm as the cavalcade rode up. 
Bradley left his book and came out to see the poor 
prisoner, who reeled in his saddle, covered with 
blood and dirt. 

They rode on to the next polling-place, relent- 


120 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


lessly forcing the man to undo as much of his 
villainy as possible. Milton remained with Brad- 
ley. ‘‘That shows how desperate they are,” he 
said as they went back into the schoolhouse. 
“They see we mean business this time.” 

All was quiet, even gloomy, when Bradley and 
Milton reached Rock River. The streets were 
deserted, and only an occasional opening door at 
some favorite haunt, like the drug-store or Robie’s 
grocery, showed that a living soul was interested 
in the outcome of the election. There were no 
bonfires, no marching of boys through the street 
with tin pans and horns. 

Some reckless fellows tried it out of devilment, 
but were promptly put down by the strong hand of 
the city marshal, whose sympathies were with the 
broken “ring.” It had been evident at an early 
hour of the day that the town of Rock River itself 
was divided. Amos Ridings and Robie had car- 
ried a strong following over into the camp of the 
farmers. A general feeling had developed which 
demanded a change. 

Milton was wild with excitement. He realized 
more of the significance of the victory than Brad- 
ley. He had been in politics longer. For the 
first time in the history of the county, the farmers 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


121 


had asserted themselves. For the first time in 
the history of the farmers of Iowa, had they felt 
the power of their own mass. 

For the first time in the history of the American 
farmer there had come a feeling of solidarity. 
They perceived, for a moment at least, their com- 
munity of interests and their power to preserve 
themselves against *the combined forces of the 
political pensioners of the small towns. They 
made the mistake of supposing the interests of 
the merchant, artisan, and mechanic were also 
inimicable. 

They saw the smaller circle first. They had 
not yet risen to the perception of the solidarity of 
all productive interests. That was sure to follow. 


122 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XL 

STUDYING WITH THE JUDGE. 

After this campaign Bradley went back to 
his studies at the seminary and to his work in 
Brown’s office. Milton did not go back. Deer- 
ing made him his assistant in the treasurer’s 
office, and he confided to Bradley his approach- 
ing marriage with Eileen. 

In talking about Milton’s affairs to Bradley, 
Mr. Jennings said sadly: *‘Well, that leaves me 
alone. He’ll never come back to the farm. 
When he was at school I didn’t miss him so 
much, because he was always coming back on a 
Saturday, but now — well, it’s no use making a 
fuss over it, I s’pose, but it’s going to be lone- 
some work for us out there.” 

“Mebbe he’ll come back after his term of 
office is up.” 

Mr. Jennings shook his head. “No, town life 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


123 


and office’ll spoil ’im — and then he’ll get mar- 
ried. You’ll never go back on the farm. Nobody 
ever does that gets away from it and learns how 
to get a livin’ anywhere else.” 

This melancholy sat strangely upon Mr. Jen- 
nings, who usually took things as they came with 
smiling resignation. It affected Bradley deeply 
to see him so gloomy. 

Bradley found a quiet and comfortable home 
with Judge Brown and his odd old wife, who man- 
ifested her growing regard for him by little 
touches of adornment in his room, and by infre- 
quent confidences. As for the Judge, he took an 
immense delight in the young fellow, he made 
such a capital listener. Between Bradley and the 
grocery he really found opportunity to tell all his 
old stories and philosophize upon every conceiv- 
able subject. He talked a deal of politics, 
quoting Jefferson and Jackson. He criticised 
members of Congress, and told what he would 
have done in their places. He criticised, also, 
the grange movement, from what he considered 
to be a lofty plane. 

^‘They profess to have for a motto ‘equal 
rights to all and special privileges to none,’ and 
then they go off into class legislation. It's easy 
to talk that principle, but it means business when 


124 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


you Stand by it. I haint got the sand to stand 
by that principle myself. It goes too deep for 
me, but it’s something you young politicians 
ought to study on. One o’ these days that prin- 
ciple will get life into it, and when it does things 
will tumble. The Democratic party used to be 
a party that meant that, and if it ever succeeds 
again it must head that way. That’s the reason 
I want to get you young fellows into it.” 

These talks didn’t mean as much to Bradley 
as they should have done. He was usually at 
work at something and only half listened while 
the Judge wandered on, his heels in the air, 
his cheek full of tobacco. Old Colonel Peavy 
dropped in occasionally, and Dr. Carver, and then 
the air was full of good, old-time Democratic 
phrases. At such times the Judge even went so 
far as to quote Calhoun. 

‘‘As a matter of fact, Calhoun was on the 
right track. If he hadn’t got his States’ Rights 
doctrine mixed up with slavery, he’d ’a’ been all 
right. What he really stood for was local govern- 
ment as opposed to centralized government. 
We’re just cornin’ around back to a part of Cal- 
houn’s position.” 

This statement of the Judge stuck in Bradley’s 
mind ; months afterward it kept coming up and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


125 


becoming more significant each time that he 
talked upon it. 

He thought less often of Miss Wilbur now, 
and he could hear her name mentioned without 
flushing. She had become a vaguer but no less 
massive power in his life. That beautiful place 
in his soul where she was he had a strange rever- 
ence for. He loved to have it there. It was an 
inspiration to him, and yet he did not distinctly 
look forward to ever seeing her, much less to 
meeting her. 

Indefinite as this feeling was, it saved him 
from the mistake of marrying Nettie. Poor girl! 
She was in the grasp of her first great passion, 
and was as helpless as a broken-winged bird in 
the current of a river. She was feverishly happy 
and unaccountably sad by turns. The commands 
of her father not to see Bradley only roused her 
antagonism, and her mother’s timid entreaties 
made no impression upon her. Not even Brad- 
ley’s unresponsiveness seemed to have a decided 
discouraging effect. 

Her classmates laughed at her, as they did at 
three or four other pairs in the school who pro- 
claimed their devouring love for each other by 
walking to and from the chapel with locked arms, 
or who sat side by side in their classes with 


126 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


clasped hands, indifferent to any rude jest, repri- 
mand from the teacher, or slyly flung eraser. 
The principal gave it up in despair, calling it a 
'‘sort of measles which they’ll outgrow.” 

It was really pitiful to the comprehending 
observer. There was so much that was pain 
mixed with this pleasure. There were so many 
keen and benumbing disappointments, like that 
of waiting about the door of the office for Bradley 
to come down, and then to see him appear in 
company with some client of Judge Brown. Not 
that the client made so much difference, but the 
cold glance of Bradley’s eyes did. At such times 
she turned away with quivering lip and choking 
throat. 

She had lost much of her pertness and bright- 
ness. She talked very little at home, and it was 
only when with Bradley that she seemed at all 
like her old bird-like self. Then she chattered 
away in a wild delight, if he happened to be in 
a responsive mood, or feverishly and with a 
forced quality of gayety if he were cold and 
unresponsive. 

Bradley knew he ought to decide one way or 
the other, and often he promised himself that he 
would refuse to walk or ride with her, but the 
next time she came he weakly relented at sight of 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


127 


her eager face. It took so little to make her 
happy, that the temptation was very great to 
yield, and so their lives went along. He took her 
to the parties and sleigh-rides with the young 
people, but on his return he refused to enter the 
house. He met her at the gate, and left her there 
upon his return. 

The colonel had met him shortly after the elec- 
tion, and had threatened to whip him for his 
charges against him as an office-holder. He con- 
cluded not to try it, however, and contented him- 
self by saying, “ Don’t you never darken my door 
again, young man.” 

But in general Bradley’s life moved on unevent- 
fully. He applied himself studiously to his work 
in the office. He was getting hold of some 
common law, and a great deal of common sense, 
for the Judge was strong on both these points. 

“Young man,” said the Judge one day, after 
Bradley had returned from a sleigh-ride with Net- 
tie, “ I see that the woman-question is before you. 
Now don’t make a mistake. Be sure you are 
right. In nine cases out of ten, back out and 
you’ll be right.” 

Bradley remained silent over by the rickety red- 
hot stove, warming his stiffened fingers. The 
Judge went on in a speculative way : 


128 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ I believe I notice a tendency in the times that 
makes it harder for a married man to succeed than 
it used to be. I think, on the whole, my advice 
would be to keep out of it altogether. More men 
fail on that account, I observe, than upon any 
other. You see it’s so infernally hard to tell what 
kind of a woman your girl is going to turn out.” 

“You needn’t worry about me,” said Bradley a 
little sullenly. 

“That’s what Mrs. Brown said. I just thought 
I’d say a word or two, anyway. If I’ve gone too 
far, you may kick my dog over there.” 

Bradley looked at the sleeping dog, and back at 
the meditative Judge, and smiled. He sat down 
at his work and said no more upon the subject. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


129 


XII. 

THE JUDGE ADVISES BRADLEY. 

It was at the Judge’s advice that he decided to 
take a year at the law-school at Iowa City. He 
had been in the office over a year and a half, and 
though he had not been converted to Democracy, 
the Judge was still hopeful. 

“ Oh, you’ll have to come into the Democratic 
camp,” he often said. “You see, it’s like this: 
the Republicans are so damn proud of their record, 
they’re going to ossify, with their faces turned 
backward. They have a past, but no future. 
Now the Democratic party has no past that it 
cares particularly to look back at, and so it’s got 
to look into the future. You progressive young 
fellows can’t afford to stand in a party where 
everything is all done, because that leaves nothing 
for you to do but to admire some dead man. 
You’ll be forced into the party of ideas, sure. I 


130 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


aim disposed to hurry you, you’ll come out all 
right when the time comes.” 

Bradley never argued with him. He had simply 
shut his lips and his mind to it all. Democracy 
had lost some of its evil associations in his mind, 
however, and Free Trade and Secession no longer 
meant practically the same thing, as it used to 
do. 

“Now people are damn fools — excepting you 
an’ me, of course,” yawned the Judge, one day in 
midsummer. “ What you want to do is to take a 
couple of years at Iowa City and then come back 
here and jump right into the political arena and 
toot your horn. They’ll elect you twice as quick 
if you come back here with a high collar and a 
plug-hat, even these grangers. They distrust a 
man in * hodden gray ’ — no sort of doubt of it. 
Now you take my advice. People like to be 
pollygoggled by a sleek suit of clothes. And 
then, there is nothing that impresses people with 
a man’s immense accumulation of learning and 
dignity like a judicious spell of absence.” 

It was very warm, and they both sat with coats 
and vests laid aside. The fat old bull-dog was 
panting convulsively from the exertion of having 
just climbed the stairs. The Judge went on, after 
looking affectionately at the dog : 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


131 


“Ah, we’re a gittin’ old together, Bull an’ me. 
We like the shady side of the street. Now you 
could make a good run in the county to-day, as 
you are, but your election would be doubtful, and 
we can’t afford to take any chances. There are a 
lot o’ fellers who’d say you hadn’t had experience 
enough — too young, an’ all that kind o’ thing. 
We’ll suppose you could be elected auditor. It 
wouldn’t pay. It would only stand in the way of 
bigger things. Now you take my advice.” 

“I’d like to, but I can’t afford it. Judge.” 

“How much you got on hand ? ” 

“Oh, couple of hundred dollars or so.” 

The Judge ruminated a bit, scratching his chin. 
“Well, now. I’ll tell yeh, Mrs. Brown and I had 
a little talk about the matter last night, and she 
thinks I ought to lend you the money, and — she 
thinks you ought to take it. So pack up y’r duds 
in September and start in.” 

Bradley’s first impulse, of course, was to refuse, 
because he felt he had no claim upon the Judge’s 
charity. It took hold of his imagination, however, 
and he talked it all over thoroughly during the 
intervening weeks, and the Judge put it this way: 

“Now, there’s no charity about this thing — I 
simply expect to get three hundred per cent, on 
my money, so you go right along and when you 


132 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


come back we’ll have a new shingle painted — 
‘Brown & Talcott.’ We aint anxious to lose yeh. 
As a matter of fact, Mrs. Brown and I’ll be pretty 
lonesome for the first few weeks after you go 
away — and what I’ll do about that cussed cow 
and kindling-wood I really don’t know. Mrs. 
Brown suggested we’d better take in another 
homeless boy, and I guess that’s what we’ll do.” 

A couple of nights later, while Bradley was sit- 
ting before his trunk, which he had begun to pack 
like the inexperienced traveller he was, several 
days in. advance, Mrs. Brown came to the stairway 
to tell him Nettie was below and wanted to see 
him. 

The poor girl had just heard that he was going 
away and she met him with a white, scared face. 
He sat down without speaking, for he had no 
defence, except silence, for things of that nature. 
The girl’s fury of grief appalled him. She came 
over and flung herself sobbing upon his lap, her 
arms about his neck. 

“ Oh, Brad ! Is it true } Are you going away } ” 

“I expect to,” he replied coldly. 

“You mustn’t! You sha’n't ! I won’t let 
you!” she cried, tightening her arms about him, 
as if that would detain him. From that on, there 
was nothing but sobs on her side, and expla- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


133 


nations on his — explanations to which her love, 
direct and selfish, would not listen for a moment. 
The unreserve and unreason of her passion at last 
disgusted him. His tone grew sharper. 

“I can’t stay here,” he said. You’ve no busi- 
ness to ask me to. I can’t always be a lawyer’s 
hack. I want to study and go higher. I’ve got 
to leave this town, if I ever amount to anything in 
the world.” 

“Then take me with you ! ” she cried. 

“ I can’t do that ! I can’t any more’n make a 
livin’ for myself. Besides, I’ve got to study.” 

“I’ll make father give you some money,” she 
said. 

He closed his lips sternly, and said nothing fur- 
ther. Her agony wore itself out after a time, and 
she was content to sit up and look at him and 
listen to him at last while he explained. And her 
suppressed sobs and the tears that stood in her 
big childish eyes moved him more than her unre- 
strained sorrow. It was thus she conquered him. 

He promised her he would come home often, 
and he promised to write every day, and by impli- 
cation, though not in words, he promised to marry 
her — that is to say, he acquiesced in her plans 
for housekeeping when he returned and was estab- 
lished in the office. He ended it all by walking 


134 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


home with her and promising to see her every day 
before he went, and as he kissed her good-night 
at the gate, she was smiling again and quite 
happy, although a little catching of the breath 
(even in her laughter) showed that she was not 
yet out of the ground-swell of her emotion. 

Mrs. Brown was waiting for him when he 
returned, and as he sat down in the sitting-room, 
where she was busy at her sewing, she looked at 
him in her slow way, and at last arose and came 
over near his chair. 

“Have you promised her anything, Bradley.!*” 
she asked, laying her thimbled hand upon his 
shoulder, as his own mother might have done. 
Bradley lifted his gloomy eyes and colored a little. 

“I don’t know what I’ve said,” he answered, 
from the depth of his swift reaction. “ More’n I 
had any business to say, probably.” 

“I thought likely. You can’t afford to marry 
a girl out of pity for her, Bradley — it won’t do. 
I’ve seen how things stood for some time, but I 
thought I wouldn’t say anything.” She paused 
and considered a moment, standing there by his 
side. “It’s a good thing for both of you that 
you’re going away. You hadn’t ought to have 
let it go on so long.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” he replied with more 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


135 


sharpness in his voice than he had ever used in 
speaking to her. 

Her hand dropped from his shoulder. *‘No, I 
don’t s'pose you could. It aint natural for young 
people to stop an’ think about these things. I 
don’t suppose you knew y’rself just where it was 
all leading to. Well, now, don’t worry, and don’t 
let it interfere with your plans. She’ll outgrow 
it. Girls often go through two or three such 
attacks. Just go on with your studies, and when 
you come back, if you find her unmarried, why, 
then decide what to do.” 

Her touch of cynicism was accounted for, per- 
haps, by the fact that she had never had a 
daughter. 


136 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XIII. 

BRADLEY SEES IDA AGAIN, 

Bradley felt that the world was widening for 
him, as he took the train for Iowa City a few 
days later. He was now very nearly thirty years 
of age, and was maturing more rapidly than his 
friends and neighbors knew, for the processes of 
his mind, like those of an intricate coil of machin- 
ery, were hidden deep away from the casual 
acquaintance. 

He had secured, in the two years at the semi- 
nary, a fairly good groundwork of the common 
English branches, and his occasional reading, and 
especially his attendance upon law-suits, had 
given him a really creditable' understanding of 
common law. The Judge always insisted that 
law was simple, but it wasn’t as profitable as — 
chicanery 

“Any man, from his fund of common sense, 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


137 


can settle nine tenths of all law-suits, but that 
aint what we’re here for. A successful lawyer is 
the fellow who tangles things up and keeps com- 
mon law and common sense subordinated to chi- , 
canery and precedent. Damn precedent, anyway. 
It means referring to a past that didn’t know, and 
didn’t want to know, what justice was.” 

In the atmosphere of lectures like these, Brad- 
ley had unconsciously absorbed a great deal of 
radical thought about law-codes, and now went 
about the study of the history of enactments and 
change of statutes without any servile awe of the 
past. The Judge’s irreverence had its uses, for it 
put a law on its merits before the young student. 

He found the law-school a very congenial place 
to study. He passed the examinations quite 
decently. 

His life there was quiet and studious, for he 
felt that he had less time than the younger men. 
His age seemed excessive to him, by contrast. 
He was very generally respected as a quiet, 
decent fellow, who might be a fine consulting 
lawyer, but not a good man in the courts. They 
changed this opinion very suddenly upon hearing 
him present his first plea. 

His life consisted for the most part of passing 
to and fro from his board ing-placc to his recitation- 


138 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


room, or to long hours of digging in the library. 
He saw from time to time notices of Miss Wil- 
bur’s lectures in the interests of the grange and 
upon literary topics. He determined to hear her 
if she came into any neighboring city. There was 
no one to spy upon him, if he made an expedition 
of that sort. 

One beautiful winter day he read in the weekly 
paper of the town that she was about to appear at 
the Congregational church in a lecture entitled, 
“The Real Woman-question.” He had an impulse 
to sing, which he wisely repressed, for he couldn’t 
sing — that is, nothing which the hearer would 
recognize as singing. The Fates seemed working 
in his favor. 

He had preserved a marked sweetness and pur- 
ity of thought through all his hard life that made 
him a good type of man. His clear, steady eyes 
never gave offence to any woman, for nothing but 
sympathy and admiration ever looked out of them. 
The very thought that she was coming so near 
brought a curious numbness into his muscles and 
a tremor into his hands. He looked forward now 
to the evening of the lecture with the keenest 
interest he had ever felt. 

The dazzling winter day seemed more radiant 
than ever before, when he heard some ladies in 


Ji SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


139 


the post-office say Ida was in town. The blue 
shadows lay on the new-fallen snow vivid as steel 
The warm sun showered down through the clear 
air a peculiar warmth that made the eaves begin 
to drop in the early morning. Sleighs were mov- 
ing to and fro in the streets, and bright bits of 
color on the girls’ hoods and in the broad knit 
scarfs which the young men wore, formed pleas- 
ing reliefs from the dazzling blue and white. 
Bells filled the air with jocund music. 

Bradley walked straight away into the country. 
He wanted to be alone. It seemed so strange 
and sweet to be thus shaken by the coming of a 
woman. In the first few minutes he gave himself 
up to the thought that she was near and that he 
was going to hear her speak again. It made his 
hand shake and his heart beat quick. 

He wondered if she would be changed. She 
would be older a little, but she would look just 
the same. He saw her stand again under the 
waving branches of the oaks, the flickering shadow 
on her brown hair, speaking again the words 
which had become the measure of his ambition, 
the prophecy of a social condition : 

** I want to have everything I do to help us all 
on toward that time when the country will be 
filled with happy young people, and hale and 


140 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


hearty old people, when the moon will be brighter, 
and the stars thicker in the skies.” 

This was his thought. He had not risen yet to 
the conception of the real barrenness and squalor 
of the life he had lived. 

His studies had made him a little more self- 
analytical, but there were inner deeps where he 
did not penetrate and there was one inner place 
which he dared not enter. A whirl of thought 
confused him, but out of it all he returned con- 
stantly to the thought that he should hear her 
speak again. 

That evening he dressed himself with as much 
care as if he were to call upon her alone, and he 
dressed very well now. His clothes were sub- 
stantial and fitted him well. His year’s immunity 
from hard work had left his large hands supple 
and delicate of touch, and his face had attained 
refinement and mobility. His eyes had become 
more introspective and had lost entirely the 
ox-like roll of the country-born man. He was a 
handsome and dignified young man. His bearing 
on the street was noticeably manly and unaffected. 

The lecture was in the church and the seats 
were all filled. It gratified him, at the same time 
that it hopelessly abased him to observe all this 
evidence of her power. As he waited for her to 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


141 


appear that tremor came into his hands again, 
and that breathlessness, and curiously enough he 
felt that horrible familiar sinking of the heart that 
he always felt just before he himself rose to speak. 

Somebody started to clap hands, and the rest 
joined in, as two or three ladies entered the back 
part of the church and passed up the aisle. He 
looked up as they went by him, and caught a 
glimpse of a stately head of brown hair, modestly 
bent in acknowledgment of the applause, and he 
caught a whiff of the delicate odor of violets. His 
eyes followed the strong, firm steps of the young 
woman who walked between the two older women. 
There was something fine and dignified in her 
walk, and the odor of her dress as she passed 
lingered with him, but he did not feel that she 
was the same woman, till she turned and faced 
him on the platform. 

He sat impassively, but his pulse leaped when 
her clear brown eyes running calmly over the 
audience seemed to fall upon him. She was the 
same woman, his ideal and more. She was fuller 
of form and the poise of her head was more 
womanly, but she was the same spirit that had 
come to be such a power and inspiration in his 
life. 

As a matter of fact she had grown also. If 


142 


A SPOIL OP OFFICE. 


she had not, she would have seemed girlish to him 
now ; growing as he grew, she seemed the same 
distance beyond him. Her self-possession in the 
face of the audience appealed to him strongly. 
Something in her manner of dress pleased him, it 
was so individual, so like her simple, dignified, 
beautiful self in every line. 

She spoke more quietly, more conversation- 
ally than when he heard her before, but her voice 
made him shudder with associated emotions. Its 
cadences reached deep, and the words she spoke 
opened long vistas in his mind. She was defend- 
ing the right of women to live as human beings, 
to act as human beings, and to develop as freely 
as men. 

“I claim the right to be an individual human 
being first and a ^oman afterward. Why should 
the accident of my sex surround me with conven- 
tional and arbitrary limitations } I claim the same 
right to find out what I can do and can’t do that 
a man has. Who is to determine what my sphere 
is — men and men’s laws or my own nature } 
These are vital questions. I deny the right of 
any man to mark out the path in which I shall 
walk. I claim the same right to life, liberty, and 
the pursuit of happiness that men are demanding. 

‘‘It is not a question of suffrage merely — 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


143 


suffrage is the smaller part of the woman-question 
— it is a question of equal rights. It is a ques- 
tion of whether the law of liberty applies to 
humanity or to men only. Absolute liberty 
bounded only by the equal liberties of the rest of 
humanity is the real goal of the race — not of man 
only, but woman too.” 

The ladies dimly feeling that liberty was a safe 
thing to cheer, clapped their hands softly under 
the cover of the nosier clapping of a few radicals 
who knew what the speaker was really saying. 
Bradley did not cheer — he was thinking too 
deeply. 

‘‘The woman question is not a political one 
merely, it is an economic one. The real problem 
is the wage problem, the industrial problem. The 
real question is woman’s dependence upon man 
as the bread-winner. As long as that dependence 
exists there will be weakness. No individual can 
stand at their strongest and best while leaning 
upon some other. I believe with Browning and 
Ruskin that the development of personality is the 
goal of the race.” 

The ladies took it for granted that this was true 
as it was bolstered by two great names. A few, 
however, sat with wrinkled brows scenting some- 
thing heretical in all that. 


144 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ The time is surely coming when women can 
no longer bear to be dependent, to be pitied or 
abused by men. They will want to stand upright 
and independent by their husbands, claiming the 
same rights to freedom of action, and demanding 
equal pay for equal work. She must be able to 
earn her own living in an honorable way at a 
moment’s notice. Then she will be a free woman 
even if she never leaves her kitchen.” 

It was trite enough to a few of the audience, 
but, to others, it was new, and to many it was 
revolutionary. She was destined to again set a 
stake in Bradley’s mental horizon. The woman 
question had not engaged his attention ; at least 
not in any serious way. He had not thought of 
woman as having any active part in living. In 
the thoughtless way of the average man, he had 
ignored or idealized women according as they 
appealed to his eye. He had not risen to the 
point of pitying or condemning, or in any way 
consciously placing them in the social economy. 

The speaker had appealed to his imagination 
before, and now again he sat absolutely motionless 
while great new thoughts and impersonal emotions 
sprang up in his brain. He saw women in a new 
light, and the aloofness of the speaker grew upon 
him again. He felt that she was holding her 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


145 


place as his teacher. Around him he heard the 
rustle of approval upon the gown she wore, upon 
her voice, and some few favorable comments upon 
her ideas. He saw some of the people crowd 
forward to shake her hand, while others went out 
talking excitedly. 

He lingered as long as he dared, longing to go 
forward to greet her, but he went slowly out at 
last, home to his boarding place and sat down in 
his habitual attitude when in deep thought, his 
elbow on his knee, his chin in his palm. He 
wanted to see her, he must see her and tell her 
how much she had done for him. 

How to do it was the question which absorbed 
him now. He got away from the noisy merri- 
ment of fbe house, out into the street again. 
The stars were more congenial company to him 
now; under their passionless serenity he could 
think better. He felt that he must come to an 
understanding with himself soon, but he put it 
off and turned his attention to his future, and 
more immediately to the plans which must be 
carried out, of seeing her. 

When he came in he was desperately resolved. 
He would go to see her on the next day in her 
hotel. He justified himself by saying that she 
was a lecturer, a person before the public, and 


146 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


that she would not think it strange ; anyhow, he 
was going to do it. 

In the broad daylight, however, it was not so 
easy as it seemed under the magic of the moon. 
The conventions of the world always count for 
less in the company of the moon and the stars. 
He heard during the morning that she was going 
away in the afternoon, and he was made desper- 
ate. He started out to go straight to the hotel, 
and he did, but he walked by it, once, twice, a 
half dozen times, each time feeling weaker and 
more desperate in his resolution. 

At length he deliberately entered and aston- 
ished himself by walking up to the clerk and 
asking for Miss Wilbur. 

The clerk turned briskly and looked at the 
pigeon-holes for the keys. “ I think she is. 
Send up a card } ” 

True, he hadn’t thought of that. He had no 
cards. He received one from the clerk that 
looked as if it had done duty before, and scrawled 
his name upon it, and gave it to the insolent lit- 
tle darky who served as “Front.” 

“Tell her Td like to see her just a few 
minutes.” 

On the stairs he tried to prepare what he 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


147 


should say to her. His mouth already felt dry, 
and his brain was a mere swirl of gray and white 
matter. Almost without knowing how, he found 
himself seated in the ladies’ parlor, to which the 
boy had conducted him. It was a barren little 
place, in spite of its excessively florid gilt and 
crimson paper, and its ostentatious harsh red- 
plush furniture. 

His heart sent the blood into his throat till it 
ached with the tension. His lips quivered and 
turned pale as he heard the slow sweep of a 
woman’s dress, and there she stood before him, 
with smiling face and extended hand. “ Are you 
Mr. Talcott Did you want to see me .!*” 

She had the frank gesture and ready smile a 
kindly man would have used. Instantly his brain 
cleared, his heart ceased to pound, and the numb- 
ness left his limbs. He forgot himself utterly. 
He only saw and heard her. He found himself 
saying : 

“ I wanted to come in and tell you how much 
I liked your speech last night, and how much I 
liked a speech you made up at Rock River, at the 
grange picinic.” 

Oh, did you hear me up there ? That was 
one of my old speeches. I’ve quite outgrown 
that now. You’ll be shocked to know I don’t 


148 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


believe in a whole lot of things that I used to 
believe in.” As she talked, she looked at him 
precisely as one man looks at another, without the 
slightest false modesty or coquettishness. She 
evidently considered him a fellow-student on social 
affairs. “I’m glad you liked my talk on the 
woman question. It was dreadfully radical to the 
most of my audience.” 

“ It was right,” Bradley said, and their minds 
seemed to come together at that point as if by an 
electrical shock. “ I never thought of it before. 
Women have been kept down. We do claim to 
know better what she ought to do than she knows 
herself. The trouble is we men don’t think about 
it at all. We need to have you tell us these 
things.” 

“Yes, that’s true. As soon as I made that 
discovery I began talking the woman question. 
One radicalism opened the way to the other. 
Being a radical is like opening the door to the 
witches. Are you one ? ” she asked, with a sud- 
den smile, “I mean a radical, not a witch.” 

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, “I’m a 
student. I know I can’t agree with some people 
on these things.” 

“ So7;ie people ! Sometimes I feel it would be 
good to meet with a single person — a single 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


149 


one — I could agree with! But tell me of your- 
self — are you in the grange movement ?” 

‘'Well, not exactly, but I’ve helped all I 
could.” 

“ What is the condition of the grange in your 
county 

“It seems to be going down.” 

She was silent for some time. Her face sad- 
dened with deep thought. “Yes, I’m afraid it 
is. The farmers can’t seem to hold together. 
Strange, aint it ? Other trades and occupations 
have their organizations and stand by each other, 
but the farmer can’t seem to feel his kinship. 
Well, I suppose he must suffer greater hardships 
before he learns his lesson. But God help the 
poor wives while he learns I But he viust learn,” 
she ended firmly. “ He must come some day to 
see that to stand by his fellow-man is to stand by 
himself. That’s what civilization means, to stand 
by each other.” 

Bradley did not reply. He was looking upon 
her, with eyes filled with adoration. He had 
never heard such words from the lips of anyone. 
He had never seen a woman sit lost in philoso- 
phic thought like this. Her bent head seemed 
incredibly beautiful to him, and her simple flow- 
ing dress, royal purple. Her presence destroyed 


150 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


his power of thought. He simply waited for her 
to go on. 

“ The farmer lacks comparative ideas,” she went 
on. “ He don’t know how poor he is. If he once 
finds it out, let the politicians and their masters, 
the money-changers, beware ! But while he’s find- 
ing it out, his children will grow up in ignorance, 
and his wife die of overwork. Oh, sometimes I 
lose heart.” Her voice betrayed how strongly 
she perceived the almost hopeless immensity of 
the task. “The farmer must learn that to help 
himself, he must help others. That is the great 
lesson of modern society. Don’t you think so } ” 

“ I don’t know. I’m losing my hold on things 
that I used to believe in. I’ve come to believe 
the system of protection is wrong.” He said this 
in a tone absurdly solemn as if he had somehow 
questioned the law of gravity. 

“Of course it is wrong,” she said. “The 
moment I got East, I found free-trade in the air, 
and my uncle, who is a manufacturer, admitted it 
was all right in theory, but it wouldn’t do as a 
practical measure. That finished me. I’m a 
woman, you know, and when a thing appears right 
in theory, I believe it’ll be right in practice. 
Expediency don’t count with me, you see. But 
tell me, do you still live in Rock River ? ” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


151 


‘‘Yes, Fm only studying law down here.” 

“Oh, I see. I suppose you know many of the 
people at Rock River.” She asked about Milton, 
whom she remembered, and about Mr. Deering. 
Then she returned again to the subject of the 
grange. “Yes, it has been already a great force, 
but I begin to suspect that the time is coming 
when it must include more or fail. I don’t know 
just what — I aint quite clear upon it — but as it 
stands now, it seems inadequate.” 

She ended very slowly, her chin in her palm, 
her eyes on the floor. She made a grand picture 
of thought, something more active than medita- 
tion. ' Her dress trailed in long, sweeping lines, 
and against its rich dark purple folds her strong, 
white hands lay in vivid contrast. The most 
wonderful charm of her personality was her com- 
plete absorption in thought, or the speech of her 
visitor. She was interested in this keen-eyed, 
strong-limbed young fellow as a possible convert 
and reformer. She wanted to state herself clearly 
and fully to him. He was a fine listener. 

“Fm afraid I see a tendency that is directly 
away from my ideal of a farming community. 
There is a force operating to destroy the grange 
and all other such movements.” 

“You mean politics?” 


152 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


“No, I mean land monopoly. I believe in 
thickly settled farming communities, communities 
where every man has a small, highly cultivated 
farm. That’s what I’ve been advocating and 
prophesying, but I now begin to see that our 
system of ownership in land is directly against 
this security, and directly against thickly-settled 
farming communities. The big land owners are 
swallowing up the small farmers, and turning them 
into renters or laborers. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ I hadn’t though of it before, but I guess that’s 
so — up in our county, at least.” 

“ It’s so every where I’ve been. I don’t under- 
stand it yet, but I’m going to. In the meantime 
I am preaching union and education. I don’t see 
the end of it, but I know” — Here she threw 
off her doubt — “I know that the human mind 
cannot be chained. I know the love of truth and 
justice cannot be destroyed, and marches on from 
age to age, and that’s why I am full of confidence. 
The farmer is beginning to compare his mortgaged 
farm with the banker’s mansion and his safe, and 
no one can see the end of his thinking. The 
great thing is his thinking.” 

She arose and gave him her hand. “ I’m glad 
you came in. Give my regards to Mr. Deering 
and other friends, won’t you ? Tell them not to 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


153 


think I’m not working because I’m no longer their 
lecturer. You ought to be in the field. Will you 
read something which I’ll send } ” she asked, the 
zeal of the reformer getting the upper hand 
again. 

“Certainly. I should be very glad to.” 

“ I’ll send you some pamphlets I’ve been read- 
ing.” Her voice seemed to say the interview was 
ended, but Bradley did not go. He was strug- 
gling to speak. After a significant pause, he said 
in a low voice : 

“I’d — I’d like to write to you — if you don’t 
— mind.” 

Her eyes widened just a line, but they did not 
waver. “I should like to hear from you,” she 
said cordially. “ I’d like to know what you think 
of those pamphlets, which I’ll surely send.” 

He had the courage to look once more into her 
brown eyes, with their red-gold deeps, as he shook 
hands. The clasp of her hand was firm and 
frank. 

“ Good-by ! I hope I shall see you again. My 
address is always Des Moines, though I’m on the 
road a great deal.” 

Out into the open air again he passed like a 
man sanctified. It seemed impossible that he had 
not only seen her, but had retained his self-pos- 


154 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


session, and had actually dared to ask permission 
to write to her ! 

The red-gold sunlight was flaming across the 
snow, and the shadows stood out upon the shin- 
ing expanse vivid as stains in ink. The sky, 
aflame with orange and gold clouds, was thrown 
into loftier relief by the serrate blue rim of trees 
that formed the western horizon. As he walked, 
he had a reckoning with himself. It could not 
longer be delayed. 

He had been a boy to this day, but that hour 
made him a man, and he knew he was a lover. 
Not that he used that word, for like the farm-born 
man that he was, he did not say, “I love her,” 
but he lifted his face to the sky in an unuttered 
resolution to be worthy her. 

He had come under the spell of her womanly 
presence. He had seen her in her house-dress, 
and his admiration for her intellect and beauty 
had added to itself a subtle quality, which rose 
from the potential husbandship and fatherhood 
within him. 

Now that he was out of her immediate pres- 
ence, thoughts came thick and fast. Every word 
she had spoken seemed to have a magical power 
of arousing long trains of speculation. He 
walked far out into the quiet evening, walked 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


155 


until he grew calmer, and the emotion of the hour 
faded to a luminous golden dusk in his mind as 
the day changed into the beautiful winter night. 

As he sat down at his desk, an hour later, he 
saw a letter lying there. It was one of Nettie’s 
poor little school-girl love letters. A feeling of 
disgust and shame seized him. He crumpled the 
letter in his hands, and was on the point of throw- 
ihg it away, when his mood changed, and he soft- 
ened. By the side of Miss Wilbur poor little 
Nettie was a willful child. He couldn’t retain his 
anger very long. 

A few days after there came to him a pamphlet 
directed in a woman’s hand. Its title page struck 
him as something utterly new, but it was only the 
first of a flood of similar publications. 

*‘The Coming Conflict. A Series of Lectures 
prophetic of the Coming Revolution of the Poor, 
when they will rise against the National Banks 
and against all Indirect Taxation.” 

Its dedication was marked with a pencil and he 
read it over and over: “To the Toiling Millions 
who produce all the wealth, yet because they have 
never controlled legislation, have been impover- 
ished by unjust laws made in the interests of the 
Land-holder and the Money-changer, who seize 
upon and hold the surplus wealth of the nation by 


156 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the same right that the slave-master held his 
slave, legal right and that alone, this tract is 
inscribed by the author.” 

It was Bradley’s first intimation of the mighty 
forces beginning to stir in the deeps of American 
society. He found the pamphlet filled with great 
confusing thoughts. He confessed frankly in his 
letter to Miss Wilbur that he got nothing satis- 
factory out of it, though it made him think. 

It was astonishing to himself to find his 
thoughts flowing out to her upon paper with the 
greatest ease. He was stricken with fear after 
he had mailed his letter, it was so bulky. He 
was appalled at the length of time which must 
pass before he might reasonably expect to hear 
from her. He counted the days, the hours that 
intervened. Her note came at last, and it made 
his blood leap as the clerk flung it out with a 
grin. “ She’s blessed yeh this time ! ” It was a 
red-headed clerk, and his grin, by reason of a quid 
of tobacco in his thin cheek, was particularly 
offensive. Bradley felt an impulse to call him 
out of his box and whip him. 

When he opened the letter in his own room he 
felt a sort of fear. How would she reply ? The 
letter gave out a faint perfume like that he 
remembered floated with her dress. It was a 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


157 


rather brief note, but very kind. She called his 
attention to two or three passages in the pam- 
phlet, and especially asked him to read the chap- 
ters touching on the land and money questions. 
But the part over which he spent the most time 
was the paragraph at the close : 

“ I liked your letter very much. It shows a sincere desire for 
the truth. You will never stop short of the truth, I’m sure, but 
yon will have sacrifices to make — you must expect that. I shall 
take great interest in your work. 

“ Very sincerely. 


Ida Wilbur.” 


158 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XIV, 

BRADLEY CHANGES HIS POLITICAL VIEWS. 

The West had always been Republican. Its 
States had come into the Union as Republican 
States. It met the solid South with a solid 
North-west year after year, and it firmly believed 
that the salvation of the nation’s life depended on 
its fidelity to the war traditions and on the princi- 
ple of protection to American industries. 

Its orators waved the bloody shirt to keep the 
party together, though each election placed the 
war and its issues farther into the background 
of history, and an increasing number of people 
deprecated the action of fanning smouldering 
embers into flame again. Iowa and Kansas and 
Nebraska were Stalwarts of the Stalwart. Kan- 
sas was the battle-ground of the old Abolition and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


159 


Free Soil forces, and their traditions kept alive a 
love and reverence for the Republican party long 
after its real leaders had passed away, and long 
after it had ceased to be the party of the people. 

Iowa was hopelessly Republican, also. A strong 
force in the Rebellion, dominated by New Eng- 
land thought, its industries predominantly agricul- 
tural, it held rigidly to its Republicanism, and 
trained its young men to believe that, while “all 
Democrats were not thieves, all thieves were 
Democrats,” and, when - pressed to the wall, 
admitted, reluctantly, that there were some good 
men among the Democrats.” 

In the fall of Bradley’s last year at Iowa City, 
another presidential campaign was coming on, 
but few men considered that there was any 
change impending. Local fights really supplied 
the incitement to action among the Republican 
leaders. There was no statement of a general 
principle, no discussion of economic issues by 
their political leaders. They carefully avoided 
anything like a discussion of the real condition 
of the people. 

Rock County had been the banner Republi- 
can county. For years the Democrats of Rock 
County had met in annual convention to nom- 
inate a ticket which they had not the slightest 


160 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


expectation of electing. There was something 
pathetic in the habit. It was not faith — it was a 
sort of desperation ; and yet the Republicans as 
regularly had their joke about it, regardless of 
the pathos presented in the action of a body of 
men thus fighting a forlorn and hopeless battle. 
Each year some old-fashioned Democrat dropped 
away into the grave, and yet the remnant met and 
nominated a complete ticket, and voted for it 
solemnly, even religiously. 

The young Republicans of the county called 
this remnant “Free traders” and “Copperheads,” 
exactly as if the terms were synonymous. The 
Republican boys of the country felt that there 
was something mysteriously uncanny in the term 
“ Free Trader,” and always associated “Copper- 
head ” with the yellowed-backed rattlesnakes that 
were abundant in the limestone cliffs, and in 
their snowballing took sides with these mysterious 
words as shibboleths. 

In truth, many of these Democrats were very 
thoughtful men — old-line Jeffersonians, who held 
to a principle of liberty. Others had been born 
Democrats a half-century ago, and had never been 
able to make any change. They continued the 
habit of being Democrats, just as they continued 
the habit of wearing fuzzy old plug hats, of old- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


161 


fashioned shapes, and long, polished frock coats. 
Then there were a few of that perpetually cross- 
grained class who will never agree with anybody 
else if they can help it. They belonged to the 
Democracy because the Democrats were in the 
minority, and considered it wrong to belong to a 
majority, anyhow. Of this sort were men like 
Colonel Peavy and old Judd Colwell. 

The Colonel had been nominated for treasurer 
and Colwell for sheriff on the Democratic ticket 
year after year, and each year the leaders of the 
party had prophesied decided gains, but they did 
not come. The State remained apparently hope- 
lessly Republican. The forces which were really 
preparing for change .were too far below the sur- 
face for these old-line politicians to understand 
and measure. 

As a matter of fact, the schools and debating 
clubs and newspapers were preparing the whole 
country for a political revolution. Radicals were 
everywhere being educated. Men like Radbourn, 
who still remained nominally a Republican, and a 
host of other young men and progressive men 
were becoming disabused of the protective idea, 
and were ready for a revolt. There needed but a 
change of leadership to make a change of the 
relation of parties and of party names. 


162 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The Grange, which was still non-partisan, 
seemed not destined to play a very strong part 
in politics, though it was still at work wresting 
some advanced forms of legislation from one or 
the other of the old parties. 

But the deeper change was one which Judge 
Brown and a few of the progressive men had only 
just dimly perceived. The war and the issues of 
the war were slowly drawing off. The militant 
was being lost in the problems of the industrial. 
Each year a larger mass of people practically said, 
“The issues of to-day are not the issues of 
twenty-five years ago. The bloody shirt is an 
anachronism.” 

Here and there a young man coming to matur- 
ity caught the spirit of the new era, and turned 
away from the talk of the solid South, and 
addressed himself to a consideration of the ques- 
tions of taxation and finance. These men formed 
a growing power in the State, and chafed under 
the restraint of their leaders. 

And above all, death, the great pacificator, 
unlooser of bonds, and aider of progress, was 
doing his work. The old men were dying and 
carrying their prejudices with them, while each 
year thousands of young voters, tp whom the war 
was an echo of passion, sprang to the polls and 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


163 


faced the future policy of the parties, not their 
past. Not only all over the State of Iowa, but 
all over the West, they were silent factors, in many 
cases kept so by the all-compelling power of party 
ties ; but they represented a growing power, and 
they were to become leaders in their turn. 

This spreading radicalism reached Bradley in 
the quiet of his life in Iowa City. The young 
fellows in the school were debating it with fierce 
enthusiasm, and several of them capitulated. 
They all recognized that the liquor question once 
out of the way, the tariff was the next great State 
issue. At the Judge’s suggestion, Bradley did 
not return to Rock River during vacation, but 
spent the time reading with a prominent lawyer 
of the town who had a very fine law library. 

He did not care to return particularly, for the 
quiet studious life he led, almost lonely, had grown 
to be very pleasant to him. He read a great deal 
outside his law, and enjoyed his days as he had 
never done beforp. Unconsciously he had fallen 
into a mode of life and a habit of thought which 
were unfitting him for a politician’s career. He 
gave very little thought to that, however; his 
ambition for the time had taken a new form. He 
wished to be well read ; to be a scholar such as 
he imagined Miss Wilbur to be. 


164 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


He began reading for that purpose, and kept at 
it because he really had the literary perception. 
He wrote to her of his reading; and when in her 
reply she mentioned some book which he had not 
read, he searched for it, and read it as soon as 
possible. In this quiet way he spent his days, 
the happiest he had ever known. 

He had just two disturbing factors : one was 
Nettie’s relation to him, and the other was his 
desire to see Miss Wilbur. Nettie wrote quite 
often at first, letters all very much alike, and very 
short, sending love and kisses. She was not a 
good letter writer, and even under the inspiration 
of love could not write above two pages of rep- 
etitious matter. “It’s dreadfully hard work to 
write,” she kept saying. “I wish you was to 
home. When are you coming back.?” 

It was very curious to see the different way in 
which he came to the writing of letters to these 
two persons. 

“Dear Nettie,” he would begin, with a scowl- 
ing brow, “ I cant write any oftener, because in 
the first place I’m too busy, and in the second 
place nothing happened here that you would care 
to hear about. I don’t know when I’ll be home. 
I ought to finish my course here. No, I don’t 
expect you to mope. I expect you to have a 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


165 


good time, go to parties and dances all you 
want to.” 

But when Miss Wilbur’s letters arrived, he 
devoured them with tremulous eagerness, and sat 
up half the night writing an elaborate answer, 
while Nettie’s letters lay unanswered for days. 

“Miss Ida Wilbur, Dear Miss.” (That was 
the way he addressed her. He was afraid to call 
her Dear Miss Wilbur, it seemed a little too famil- 
iar.) In the body of his letters there was no 
expressed word of his regard for her. It was 
only put indirectly into the length of his letters, 
and was shown in the eager promptness of his 
reply. She wrote kindly, scholarly replies, giving 
him a great deal to think about. Her letters 
were very far apart, however, as she was moving 
about so much. She advised him to read the 
modern books. 

“I’m always on the wrong side of everything,” 
she wrote once, “so I’m on the side of the mod- 
ern novel. I champion Mr. Howells. Are you 
reading his story in the Century? I like it 
because it isn’t like anybody else ; and Mr. Cable, 
too, you should read, and Henry James and Miss 
Jewett; they’re all of this modern school, that 
most Western people know nothing about. The 
West is so afraid of its own judgments. My 


166 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


friends go about praising the classics because 
they know it’s safe to do so, I suppose, while I 
am an image breaker to them. Mr. Howells says 
the idea of progress in art does not admit of the 
conception that any art is finished. Just like the 
question of social advance, there is always new 
work to be done and new victories to be won.” 

But more often she wrote upon economic sub- 
jects, as being more impersonal; and then her 
wish to make Bradley a reformer was greater than 
her desire to make him a lover of modern art. 

“The spirit of reform is beginning to move 
over the face of the great deep,” she wrote at 
another time. “No one who travels about as I 
do, can fail to see it. The labor question in the 
cities, and the farmer question in the country, 
will soon be the great disturbing factors in poli- 
tics. The protective theory will go down : it is 
based on a privilege; and the new war, like the 
old war, is going to be against all kinds of special 
privileges.” 

It was with a peculiar feeling of pain and relief 
that he read Miss Wilbur’s renunciation of her 
home-market idea. It seemed as if something 
sweet and fine had gone with it ; and yet it 
strengthened him, for he had come to believe that 
a home-market built up by legislation was unnatu- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


167 


ral and a mistake. Judge Brown’s constant ham- 
merings had left a mark. 

He wrote to her something of his hesitation, 
and she replied substantially that there was no 
abandonment of the home-market idea ; only the 
method of bringing it about had changed. She 
had come to believe in what was free and natural, 
not what was artificial and forced. 

“If you will study the past,” she went on, “you 
will find that advance in legislation has always 
been in the direction of less law, less granting of 
special privileges. Take the time of the Stuarts, 
for example, when the king granted monopolies in 
the sale of all kinds of goods. It is abhorrent to 
us, and yet I suppose those protected merchants 
believed their monopolies to be rights. Slowly 
these rights have come to be considered wrongs, 
and the people have abolished them. So all other 
monopolies will be abolished, when people come 
to see that it is an infringement of liberty to have 
a class of men enjoying any special privilege 
whatever. The way to build up a home-market is 
to make our own people able to buy what they 
want. 

“ There never was a time when our own people 
were not too poor to buy what they wanted. 
Goods lie rotting in our Eastern factories, and we 


168 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


export many products which the farmer would be 
very glad to consume, if he were able. The 
farmer is poor ; but it isn’t because he needs 
protection, it isn’t because he doesn’t produce 
enough — it’s because what he does produce is 
taken from him by bankers and corporations.” 

Bradley read her letters over and over again. 
Every word which she uttered had more signifi- 
cance than words from any one else. She seemed 
a marvellous being to him. He looked eagerly in 
every letter for some personal expression, but she 
seemed carefully to avoid that ; and though his 
own letters were filled with personalities, she 
remained studiously impersonal. She replied cord- 
ially and kindly, but with a reserve that should 
have been a warning to him ; but he would not 
accept warnings now — he was too deeply moved. 
Under the influence of her letters he developed a 
tremendous capacity for work. The greatest stim- 
ulus in the world had come to him, and remained 
with him. If it should be withdrawn at any time, 
it would weaken him. He did not speculate on 
that. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


169 


XV. 

HOME AGAIN WITH THE JUDGE. 

The day that came to close his work at Iowa 
City had something of an awakening effect in it. 
The mere motion of the train brought back again 
in intensified form the feelings he had experienced 
on the day he left Rock River. Life was really 
before him at last. His studies were ended, and 
he was prepared for his entrance into law. He 
looked forward to a political career indefinitely. 
He left that in the hands of the Judge. 

It was in June, and the country was very beau- 
tiful. Groves heavy with foliage, rivers curving 
away into the glooms of bending elm and bass- 
wood trees, fields of wheat and corn alternating 
with smooth pastures where the cattle fed — a 
long panorama of glorified landscape which his 
escape from manual labor now enabled him to see 
the beauty of, its associations of toil and dirt no 
longer acutely painful. 


170 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


He thought of the June day in which he had 
first met Miss Wilbur — just such a day! Then 
he thought of Nettie with a sudden twinge. She 
had not written for several weeks ; he really didn’t 
remember just when she had written last. He 
wondered what it meant ; was she forgetting him ? 
He hardly dared hope for it ; it was such an easy 
way out of his difficulty. 

The Judge met him at the depot with a car- 
riage. There were a number of people he knew 
at the station, but they did not recognize him : 
his brown beard had changed him so, and his silk 
hat made him so tall. 

Right this way, colonel,” said the Judge, in a 
calm nasal. He was filled with delight at Brad- 
ley’s appearance. He shook hands with dignified 
reserve, all for the benefit of the crowd standing 
about. “You paralyzed ’em,” he chuckled, as 
they got in and drove off. “ That beard and hat 
will fix ’em sure. I was afraid you wouldn’t carry 
out my orders on the hat.” 

“ The hat was an extravagance for your benefit 
alone. It goes into a band-box to-morrow,” replied 
Bradley. “How’s Mrs. Brown.” 

“ Quite well, thank you ; little older, of course. 
She caught a bad cold somewhere last winter, and 
she hasn’t been quite so well since. We keep a 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


171 


girl now; I forced the issue. Mrs. Brown had 
done her own work so long she considered it a 
sort of high treason to let any one else in." 

Mrs. Brown met him at the door; and she 
looked so good and motherly, and there was such 
a peculiar wistful look in her eyes, that he put 
his arm around her in a sudden impulse and kissed 
her. It made her lips tremble, and she was 
obliged to wipe her glasses before she could see 
him clearly. Supper was on the table for him, 
and she made him sit right down. 

How that beard changes you, Bradley ! I 
would hardly have known you. What will Nettie 
think ? " 

** How is Nettie ? ” 

“ Haven’t you heard from her lately ? ’’ 

**Not for some weeks." 

“Then I suppose the neighborhood gossip is 
true." He looked at her inquiringly, and she 
went on, studying his face carefully, “They say 
she’s soured on you, and is sweet on her father’s 
new book-keeper.” 

Bradley took refuge in silence, as usual. His 
face became thoughtful, and his eyes fell. 

“I’ve hoped it was true, Bradley, because she 
was no wife for you. You’d outgrown her, and 
she’d be a drag about your neck. I see her out 


172 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


riding a good deal with this young fellow; he*s 
just her sort, so I guess she isn’t heart-broken 
over your absence.” 

There was a certain shock in all this. He 
recurred to his last evening with her, when in her 
paroxysm of agony she had thrown herself at his 
feet. Much as he had desired such an outcome, 
it puzzled him to find her in love with some one 
else. It was not at all like books. 

‘<Well, Mrs. Brown, what do you think of my 
junior partner.?” said the Judge, coming in and 
looking down on Bradley with a fatherly pride. 

“I suppose, Mr. Brown, you refer to our 
adopted son.” 

Bradley dressed for church the next day with a 
new sort of embarrassment. He felt very con- 
scious of his beard and of his tailor-made clothes, 
for he knew everybody would observe any change 
in him. He knew he would be the object of 
greater attention than the service ; but he determ- 
ined to go, and have the whole matter over at 
once. 

The windows were open, and the sound of the 
bell came in mingled with the scent of the sunlit 
flowers, the soft rustle of the maple leaves, and 
the sound of the insects in the grass. His heart 
turned toward Miss Wilbur now whenever any 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


173 


keen enjoyment came to him ; instinctively turned 
to her, with the wish that she might share his 
pleasure with him. He sat by the open window, 
dreaming, until the last bell sounded through the 
heavy leaf-scented air. 

“Won’t you go to church with me. Judge.?” he 
said, going out. 

The Judge turned a slow look upon him. He 
was seated on the shady porch, his feet on the 
railing, a Chicago daily paper in his lap. He said 
very gravely: “Mrs. Brown, our boy is going to 
church.” 

“Can’t you let him, Mr. Brown.? It’ll do him 
good, maybe,” said Mrs. Brown, who was at work 
near the window. 

“ Goes to see the girls. Know all about it my- 
self. Go ahead, young man, and remember the 
text now, or we’ll put a stop to this” — Bradley 
went off down the walk. He passed by a tiny 
little box of a house where a man in his shirt 
sleeves was romping with some children. 

“Hello, Milton,” called Bradley cheerily. 

The young man looked up. His face flashed 
into a broad smile. “Hello! Brad Talcott, by 
thunder! Well, well. When’d you get back .? ” 

“Last night. Yours.?” he inquired, nodding 
toward the children. 


174 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“Yep. Well, how are you, old man.'* You 
look well. Couldn’t fool me with that beard. 
Come in and sit down, won’t yeh.?” 

“No, I’m on my way to church. Can’t you 
come ? ” 

“ Great Caesar, no ! not with these young hyenas 
to attend to.” He had grown fat, and his chin 
beard made him look like a Methodist minister; 
but his sunny blue eyes laughed up into Bradley’s 
face just as in the past. “Say!” he exclaimed, 
“you struck it with the old Judge, didn’t you 
He’s goin’ to run you for governor one of these 
days. County treasurer ain’t good enough for 
you. But say,” he said, as a final word, “ I guess 
you’d better not wear that suit much ; it’s too 
soft altogether. Stop in when you come back. 
Eileen’ll be glad to see you,” he called after him. 

The audience had risen to sing as he entered, 
and he took his place without attracting much 
attention. As he stood there listening to the 
familiar Moody and Sankey hymn, there came 
again the touch of awe which the church used to 
put upon him. He was not a “religious” man. 
He had no more thought of his soul or his future 
state than a powerful young Greek. His feeling 
of awe arose from the association of beauty, music, 
and love with a church. It was feminine, some 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


175 


way, and shared his reverence for a beautiful 
woman. 

The churches of the town were the only things 
of a public nature which had any touch of beauty 
or grace. They were poor little wooden boxes at 
best; and yet they had colored windows, which 
seemed to hush the dazzling summer sun into a 
dim glory, transfiguring the shabby interior, and 
making the bent heads of the girls more beautiful 
than words can tell. It was the one place which 
was set apart for purposes not utilitarian, and a 
large part of what these people called religious 
reverence was in fact a pathetic homage to beauty 
and poetry, and rest. 

When they all took their seats, and while the 
preacher was praying, Bradley was absorbing the 
churchy smell of fresh linen, buoyant perfumes, 
(camphor, cinnamon, violets, rose) and the hot, 
sweet odor of newly-mown grass lying under the 
sun just outside of the windows. The wind pulsed 
in through the half-swung window, a bee came 
buzzing wildly along, a butterfly rested an instant 
on the window sill, and the preacher prayed on in 
an oratorical way for the various departments of 
government. 

Bradley felt a sharp eye fixed upon him, and, 
turning cautiously, caught Nettie looking at him. 


176 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


She nodded and smiled in her audacious way. 
Two or three of the young fellows saw him and 
nodded at him, but mainly the people sat with 
bowed heads, feeling some presence that was full 
of grace and power to banish, for a short time at 
least the stress of the struggle to live. 

The young fellows were mainly in the back 
seats; and while they were decorously quiet, it 
was evident that they had very little interest in 
the prayer. Death and hell and the grave! 
Why should one trouble himself about such things 
when the red blood leaped in the heart, and the 
June wind was flinging a flickering flight of leaf 
shadows across the window pane ? There sat the 
girls with roguish eyes, the rounded outline of 
their cheeks (as tempting as peaches), displayed 
with miraculous skill at just their most taking 
angle. Their Sunday gowns and gloves and hats 
transfigured them into something too dainty and 
fine to be touched, and yet every glance and 
motion was an invitation and a lure. 

Here was the proper function of the church ; to 
enable these young people to see each other at 
their best, and to bring into their sordid lives 
some hint, at least, of music and beauty. 

Bradley did not hear the sermon. He was 
wondering just what Nettie’s smile meant, and 



A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


177 


what he was going to say to her. He was not 
subtle enough to take a half-way or an ambiguous 
stand. He must either treat her tenderness as a 
forgotten thing or hold himself to his promise as 
something which he was under orders from his 
conscience to fulfill. 

When the service was over he went out into 
the anteroom with the young fellows, who were 
anxious to meet him. Quite a number of farmers 
were in from the country, and they all crowded 
about, shaking his hand with great heartiness. 
He moved on with them to the sidewalk, where 
many of the congregation stood talking subduedly 
in groups. The women came by in their starched 
neatness, leading rebellious boys in torturing 
suits of winter thickness topped with collars, stiff 
as sauce pans; while the little girls walked as 
upright as dolls, looking disdainfully at their sulk- 
ing brothers. Some of the merchants passing by 
discussed the sermon, some talked about crops 
with the farmers, and those around Bradley 
dipped into the political situation guardedly. 

While he was talking to some of the town peo- 
ple, he saw Nettie come up and join a young man 
at the door whom he had recognized as the tenor 
in the choir; and they sauntered off together 
under the full-leafed maples — she in dainty white 


178 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


and pink, he in a miraculously modish suit of 
gray, a rose in his lapel. Bradley looked after 
them without special wonder. It was only as he 
went back to his room that he began to see how 
fully Nettie had outgrown her passion for him. 

He met her the next day as he was going home 
from the office. 

“Hello, Bradley,” she said, without blushing, 
though her eyes wavered before his. 

He held out his hand with a frank smile. 
“Hello, Nettie, which way are you going 

“Going home now, been up to the grocery. 
Want to go 'long ? ” 

“ I don’t mind. How are you, anyway 

“ Oh, I’m all right. Say ! that beard of yours 
makes you look as funny as old fun.” 

“ Does it ? ” he said. 

“You bet! It makes you look old enough to 
go to Congress. Say ! heard from Radbourn 
lately.?” Bradley shook his head. “Well, I 
haven’t, but Lily has. He’s writing — writing 
for the newspapers, she said.” 

“Is that so.? I haven’t heard it.” 

“ E-huh I Say, do you know Lily’s all bent on 
him yet I Funny, ain’t it.? I ain’t that way, am 
I .? ” she ended, with her customary audacity. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


179 


“No, it’s out o’ sight, out o’ mind with you,” 
he replied, with equal frankness. 

“ Oh, not quite so bad as that. Ain’t yeh 
cornin’ in } ” They were at the gate. 

“Guess not. You remember your father’s 
command ; I must never darken his door.” 

She laughed heartily. “ I guess that don’t 
count now.” 

“Don’t it.? Well, some other time then.” 

“All right, but gimme that basket. Goin’ to 
lug that off with you .? ” 


180 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XVI. 

NOMINATION. 

On the Monday evening following Bradley’s 
return, there was quite a gathering at Robie’s 
along about sundown. Colonel Peavy and Judge 
Brown came down together, and Ridings and 
Deering were there also, seated comfortably under 
the awning, in mild discussion with Robie, who 
had taken the side of free trade, to be contrary, as 
Deering said. 

‘‘No, sir; I take that side for it’s right.” 
There was something sincere in his reply, and 
Ridings stared. 

“How long since ? ” 

“ About a week.” 

“What’s got into yeh, anyhow 
“A little horse sense,” said Robie. “I’ve been 
a readin’ the other side ; an’ if a few more of yeh’d 
do the same, you’d lose some of your damn pig- 
headed nonsense.” The Democrats cheered, but 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


181 


the Republicans stared at Robie, as if he had sud- 
denly become insane. 

Well, ril be damned ! ” said Smith, his brother- 
in-law. ‘‘I’d like to know what you’d been a 
readin’ to make a blazin’ old copperhead of you.” 

Robie held up two or three tracts. The Judge 
took them, looked them over, and read the titles 
out loud .to the wondering crowd. 

“‘The Power of Money to Oppress.’ ‘Free 
Trade Philosophy.’ ‘ The Money Question.’ ‘The 
Right to the Use of the Earth,’ by Herbert 
Spencer. ‘ Land and Labor Library.’ ‘Progress 
and Poverty,’ by Henry George.” 

“ Oh, so you’ve got hold of Spencer and George, 
have you ? ” said the Judge. 

“No; they’ve got hold ’f me.” 

“ Spencer ! ” said Smith, in vast disgust. “ What 
the hell has he to do with it V The rest sat in 
silence. The occasion was too momentous for 
jokes. 

“Where’d you get hold o’ these.?” said the 
Judge, fingering the leaves. 

“ Radbourn sent ’em out.” 

“ I’ll bet yeh ! If there was a rank, rotten book 
anywhere on God’s green footstool, that feller’d 
have it,” said Smith. 

The Judge ruminated: “Well, if that’s the 


182 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


effect, guess Til circulate a few copies 'mong the 
young Republicans of the county. Gentlemen, 
this is our year." 

“You’ve been a sayin’ that for ten years. 
Judge," said Ridings. 

“And it’s been a cornin’ all the time, gentle- 
men. I tell you. I’ve had my ear to the ground, 
and there’s something moving. The river, is shift- 
ing its bed. Look out for a flood. I’m going to 
make an entirely new move this fall ; I’m going 
to put up a man for legislature that’ll sweep the 
county ; and you’ll all vote for ’im, too. He’s 
young, he’s got brains, he’s an orator, and he can’t 
be bought." 

Robie brought his fist down on the counter in 
an excitement such as he had never before mani- 
fested. “ Brad Talcott ! We’ll elect him sure as 
hell ! ’’ 

Amos hastened to put in a word. “Brad’s a 
Republican." ^ 

“He’s a Free Trade Republican," said the 
Judge, quietly. 

“ How do yeh know } " 

“ Oh, I know. Haven’t I been a workin’ ’im 
for these last two years } Did you expect a man 
to live with me and not become inoculated with 
the Simon-pure Jeffersonian Democracy 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


1S3 


“I don’t believe it,” Amos replied; “and I 
won’t till I hear him say so himself. I want to 
see him go to Des Moines, but I want to see him 
go as a Republican.” 

“Well, you attend the Independent convention 
next week, and you’ll hear something that’ll set 
you thinking. Your Grange is losing force. You 
failed to elect your candidate last year. Now, if 
we put up a man who is a farmer and a clean 
man — a man that can sweep the county and 
carry Rock River — why not join in and elect 
him } ” 

The railroad interest was the great opposing 
factor; and the Judge, who was a great politician, 
had calculated upon a fusion of the farmer Repub- 
licans and the Democrats. He was really the 
ablest man in that part of the State, and could 
wield the Democratic party like a pistol. He 
succeeded in getting Amos, Councill, Jennings, 
and a few other leading grangers to sign his call 
for a people’s convention to nominate county offi- 
cers and the member of the legislature. It really 
amounted to a union of the independent Repub- 
licans and the young Democrats. 

The old liners, however, were there, and set 
out from the first to control the convention, as 
was shown in the opening words of the chairman, 


184 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


old man Colwell, whom the Judge had kindly 
allowed in the chair, in order that he might have 
a chance to speak on the floor. 

“This is a great day for us,” said the chairman. 
“We’ve waited a long time for the people to see 
that Republican rings were sapping the founda- 
tions of political honesty, but they see it now. 
This crowded convention, fellow-citizens, shows 
that the deathless principles of Jacksonian Dem- 
ocracy still slumber under the ashes of defeat.” 

He went on in this strain, calmly taking to 
himself and the other old moss-backs (as young 
Mason contemptuously called them) all the credit 
of the meeting, and bespeaking, at the same time, 
all the offices. 

Following this intimation. Colonel Peavy pre- 
sented a slate, wherein all the leading places on 
the ticket had been given “to the men who stood 
so long for the principles of Jackson and Jeffer- 
son. It was fitting that these men should be 
honored for their heroic waiting outside the gates 
of emolument.” 

Young Mason was on his feet in an instant. 
“Mr. Chairman,” he said, penetratingly. 

“Mr. Mason.” 

“While I appreciate, sir, the fortitude, the 
patience, of the men who have been waiting out- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


185 


side the gates of emolument so long, I want to 
say distinctly, that if that slate is not broken, 
we’ll all wait outside the gates of emolument 
twenty years longer. But I want to say further, 
Mr. Chairman, that the strength of this new 
movement is in its freedom from spoils-seeking ; 
is in its independence from the old party lines. 
Its strength is in its appeal to the farmer, in 
its support of his war against unjust tariff and 
against railway domination. Its strength also is 
in its appeal to the young men of this county, 
sir.” 

Applause showed that the young orator had his 
audience with him. He was a small man, but his 
voice was magnificent, and his oratory powerful 
self-contained, full of telling points. 

“If we win, gentlemen of this convention,” he 
said, turning, “we must put at the head of this 
movement a man who is absolutely incorrupti- 
ble — a man who can command the granger vote, 
the temperance vote, the young man’s vote, and 
the Independent vote. That man” — 

“ Mr. Chairman,” snarled Colonel Peavy, rising 
with impressive dignity and drawing his coat 
around him with ominous deliberation. 

“Colonel Peavy,” acknowledged the chairman. 

*‘Mr. Chairman,” shouted young Mason, “I 


186 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


have the floor. I deny the right of your recogni- 
tion of another member while Fm speaking.” 

“Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of informa- 
tion,” said the Colonel. 

“State your point. Colonel.” 

“I would like to ask this young gentleman who 
holds the floor how many votes he has cast in his 
whole life.” 

Young Mason colored with anger, but his voice 
was cool and decisive. “For the gentleman's 
information, Mr. Chairman, I will say that I have 
voted once, but that vote entitles me to stand 
here as a delegate, and I have the floor.” 

The delegates were mainly with young Mason, 
and the Colonel sat down grimly in the midst 
of the Old Guard. Milton and Bradley, sitting 
together, rejoiced in the glorious attitude of the 
young champion, who went on — 

“I say, Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, that we 
cannot win this election on old party lines. Fm 
a Democrat.” (Applause.) “But we are not 
strong enough as a party in this district to elect, 
and Fm willing to work with the Independents. 
There is just one man who can be elected from 
this convention. He is a young man ; he is 
sound on the tariff; he is an orator; he can 
sweep the county. I present, as nominee for our 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


187 


next representative, Bradley Talcott, of Rock 
River.” 

Bradley sat still, stunned by the applause which 
burst forth at the mention of his name. Brown 
had prepared him for the presentation of his 
name, but he had not dared to hope that any 
considerable number of delegates would support 
him. 

Judge Brown rose to his feet. “I second the 
nomination, Mr. Chairman. I am a Democrat — 
an old Democrat, but I’m damned if I’m a moss- 
back. I don’ allow any young man to get ahead 
of me on radicalism. I stand for progress ; and 
because I know Bradley Talcott stands for prog- 
ress, I second his nomination. His canvass will 
be an honor to himself, and a historical event in 
this county.” 

Amos Ridings arose. “ Mr. Chairman, I second 
that nomination as a Granger-Republican. I sec- 
ond it because I know Brad Talcott can’t be 
bought, and because I know he’s honest in his 
convictions. I’ll stand by him as long as he 
stands by principle.” 

This practically brought to Bradley’s support 
the winning force, for Amos was a power in the 
county. Somebody called for Milton Jennings, 
and after some hesitation he got upon his feet. 


188 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“Mr. Chairman, I’m not a delegate to this 
convention, and so it isn’t my place to speak here ; 
but I want to say that if I was, I should second 
this nomination. It’s a complete surprise to me 
to have him nominated. If I had known of it 
before, I would have been working for him all 
along. I’m pledged in another direction ; but if 
I could honorably withdraw my support from 
the regular nominee, I would do everything I 
could to elect my old classmate and esteemed 
colleague.” 

With this boom, the vote was wildly enthusi- 
astic. The chairman pronounced it unanimous. 

“Give us a speech ! ” shouted the crowd. 

Young Mason leaped up, a sardonic gleam in 
his eye. “Mr. Chairman, I move that Colonel 
Peavy and Amos Ridings escort the nominee to 
the platform.” 

The motion was put and carried amid laughter. 
As they dragged Bradley out of his chair and 
pushed him up the aisle, everybody laughed and 
cheered. William Councill kicked the Colonel as 
he went past and Robie hit him a sounding slap 
between the shoulders. The Colonel bore it all 
with astonishing good nature. As they reached 
the platform, young Mason stepped into the aisle 
and shouted : 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


189 


Three cheers for the Honorable Bradley 
Talcott ! ” 

With the roar of these cheers in his ears, Brad- 
ley turned and faced his fellow-citizens. His 
knees shook, and his voice was so weak he could 
hardly be heard. 

‘‘Fellow-citizens, do you know what you’re 
doing } ” he said, in a curiously colloquial tone. 

“You bet we do!” roared the crowd. “What 
d’ye think we’ve done.?” 

“You’ve nominated a man for your legislature 
who hasn’t got a dollar in the world.” 

“So much the better! The campaign’ll be 
honest ! ” shouted young Mason. 

Bradley’s throat was too full to speak, and his 
head whirled. “I can’t make a speech now, gen- 
tlemen ; I aint got any breath. All I can say is. 
I’m very thankful to have such friends, and I’ll 
try to do my duty in the campaign, and in the 
legislature, if I’m elected.” 

The delegates swarmed about him to shake his 
hand and promise him their support. Bradley, 
dazed by the suddenness of it, could only smile 
and grip each man’s hand. The Judge was jubi- 
lant. Had Bradley been his son, he couldn’t have 
felt more sincerely pleased. 

“We’ll see such a campaign this fall as this 


190 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


county never had,” he said to everybody; “a 
campaign with a principle; a campaign that will 
be educational.” 

Bradley had now a greater work before him 
than he had ever undertaken before. He had 
now to go to his old friends and neighbors in a 
new light, practically as a Democrat. He had 
to face audiences mainly hostile to his ideas, and 
defend opinions which he knew not only cut 
athwart the judgment of the farmers of the county, 
but squarely across their prejudices. 

But he had something irresistible on his side ; 
he was debating a principle. He was widening 
the discussion, and he made men feel that. He 
rose above local factions and local questions to the 
discussion of the principles of justice and freedom. 
He voiced this in his speech of acceptance in the 
Opera House the next day. The house was 
packed to its anteroom with people from every 
part of the county. A curious feeling of expect- 
ancy was abroad. Men seemed to feel instinct- 
ively that this was the beginning of a change in 
the thought of Rock River. Everybody remarked 
on the change in Bradley, and his beard made 
him look so much older. 

Judge Brown and Dr. Carver sat on the stage 
with the speakers, young Mason and Bradley. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


191 


The Judge was very dignified, but there was an 
exultant strut in his walk and a special deliber- 
ation in his voice which proclaimed his pride in 
his junior partner. He alluded, in his dry, nasal 
way, to the pleasure it gave him to inaugurate 
the new era in politics in Rock River. “The 
liquor question I regard as settled in this State,” 
he said. “And now the discussion of the tariff 
has free sailing. But you don’t want to hear us 
old fellows, with our prejudices; you want to hear 
our young leaders, with their principles.” 

He introduced young Mason, who made one of 
his audacious speeches. “ Death is a great friend 
of youth and progress,” he said. “The old men 
die, off, thank God ! and give young men and 
new principles a chance. I tell you, friends and 
neighbors, the Democratic party is being born 
again — it must be born again, in order to be 
worth saving.” 

When Bradley stepped forward, he was very 
pale. 

“Friends and fellow-citizens,” he began, after 
the applause had ended, “I can’t find words to 
express my feeling for the great honor you have 
done me. I thank the citizens of Rock River for 
their aid, but I want to say — I’m going to run 
this campaign in the farmers’ interest, because 


192 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the interests of this county and of this State are 
agricultural, and whatever hurts the farmer hurts 
every other man in the State. There is no war 
between the town and the country. The war is 
between the people and the monopolist wherever 
he is, whether he is in the country or in the town. 
It is not true that the interests of the town dweller 
and of the farmer are necessarily antagonistic ; 
the cause of the people is the same everywhere. 
It’s like the condition of affairs between England 
and Ireland. People say that Ireland is fighting 
England — fighting the English people, but that 
is not the fact. The antagonism is between the 
Irish people and the English landlord. So the 
fight in America is the people against the special 
privileges enjoyed by a few. It’s because these 
few generally live in towns that we see7n to be 
fighting the towns. 

'‘As the Judge said, we’ve settled the liquor 
question in this State ; it won’t come iip again 
unless office seekers drag it up. It has been our 
State issue — that and the railroads; and now 
that is settled, we can turn our attention to the 
finishing up of the railway problem and to the 
discussion of the tariff.” 

“And the money!” shouted some one; “abol- 
ish the national banks ! ” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


193 


Bradley hesitated a little. “No, we can’t do 
that, but we can destroy any special privilege they 
hold. But the first thing that stares us in thC' 
face is the war tariff that is eating us up. I’m 
going to state just what I think in this campaign, 
and you can vote for me or not. It is sheer 
robbery to continue a tariff that was laid at a time 
when we needed enormous revenue. See the 
surplus piling up in the public vault. You say 
it’s better to have a surplus than a deficit. Yes, 
but I’d rather have the surplus in the pockets of 
the people. This taxing the people to death, in 
order to have a surplus to expend in senseless 
appropriations, is poor policy.” 

In this strain his whole speech ran, and it had 
an electrical effect. They cheered him tremen- 
dously, and the meeting broke up, and discussion 
burst out all over the hall with appalling fury, 
and continued each day thereafter. The railroad 
question and the tariff question began right there 
to divide the county into two camps. The young 
leader carried the same disturbing influence into 
every township in which he spoke, and the whole 
county became a debating school. It took a posi- 
tion far ahead of the other counties of the State 
in the questions. 

Men stopped each other, and talked from plow 


194 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


to plow across the line fence. They met in the 
road upon dusty loads of wheat, and sat hours at 
a time under the burning August sun to discuss 
the matter of railroad commissions, and the fixing 
of rates, and the question o^ reducing the surplus 
in the treasury. 

The old greenbackers came out of their tempo- 
rary retirement, and helped Bradley’s cause simply 
because he was young and a dissenter. They 
were a power, for most of them were deeply read 
on the tariff and on the railroad problem ; in fact, 
were all round radicals and fluent speakers. 

Judge Brown kept out of it. “I don’t want to 
seem too prominent in this campaign,” he said to 
Colonel Peavey. “We old Mohawks are a dam- 
age to any man’s campaign just now. The time 
is coming. Colonel, when we’ll help, but not now. 
We’ve set the mischief afoot ; now let the young 
fellows and the farmers do the rest of it. Be- 
sides, my young man here is quite able to look 
out for himself. All that scares me is he’ll get 
too radical, even for the Democracy, one of these 
days. If he does, all is we 11 have to build a 
party up to his principle, for he’ll be right. Colo- 
nel ; there’s no two ways about that.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


195 


XVII. 

ELECTION. 

The interest of the election was very great; 
and as the vote of Rock River practically settled 
the contest, the centre of interest was the Court 
House, which was crowded to suffocation on 
election night. There was a continual jam and 
a continual change. Crowds stood around the 
doorway, or moved up and down the sidewalk. 
Crowds were constantly running up and down the 
stairway, and crowding in and out the dingy, 
dimly lighted court-room, which was roaring with 
voices, blue with smoke, and foul as a dungeon — 
with tobacco and vitiated breaths. 

All the men of the town seemed to be pres- 
ent, from old man Dickey, the chicken thief and 
fisherman, to cold, aristocratic R. F. Russell, the 
banker. Rowdyish boys pushed and banged and 
howled, playing at hide-and-seek among the legs of 


196 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the men, who filled every foot of standing space, 
or were perched on the railings or tables near the 
Judge’s bench, from which the returns were being 
called. The kerosene lamp shed a dim light, 
through the smoke. There was no fire, and the 
excited partisans kept their hats and coats on, 
and warmed themselves by wild gestures and 
stamping. 

Occasionally a boy’s shrill yell or whistle, or 
some excited Democrat’s calling, “It’s a whack! 
I’ll take yehl” rose above the clamor. Upon 
the benches piled up along the wall, to leave the 
middle space free, groups of the less demonstra- 
tive citizens of both parties sat discussing the 
chances of the different candidates. Bradley was 
not there, but young Mason and Milton were con- 
sidered his representatives, and were surrounded 
by a constant crowd of sympathizers. It was 
about nine o’clock at night before the decisive 
returns began to come in. 

Occasionally the sound of furious pounding was 
heard, and a momentary lull was enforced while 
the clerk read some telegraphic message or report 
of a neighboring town. While he stood upon the 
Judge’s bench, at about nine o’clock, the crowd, 
aware in some mysterious way of the arrival of 
decisive news, made a wild surge toward the clerk, 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE^ 


197 


and shouted for silence, while he announced in a 
high nasal key : “ Rock River gives a hundred 
and ninety-one for Kimball, two hundred and 
twenty-five for Talcott.” At this a wild cheer 
broke forth, led by Milton and young Mason. 

‘‘That means victory!” said Milton. 

“Don’t be too sure of it I Wait for Cedarville.” 

The reading went on, with occasional yells from 
either the Democrats or Republicans, according 
to the special quality of the report, but it was 
plain that the most interest was centered in the 
contest for representative. 

As the evening wore on, messengers clattered 
up on horseback from other towns of the county, 
and amid yells and cheers were hustled up the 
stairway, through the crowd to the clerk, carry- 
ing in their hands envelopes filled with election 
returns. These returns from the townships were 
almost entirely in Bradley’s favor, but Cedarville 
was the decisive vote. Messengers from the little 
telegraph station dashed to and fro, and the excite- 
ment was fanned into greater fury by the accounts 
of Democratic gains from other counties and other 
States. “It is a political landslide,” exclaimed 
Mason. “The Democrats are in it this time.” 

At length there rose the cry of “ Cedarville ! 
Cedarville ! ” and a messenger bearing a telegraph 


198 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


blank was rushed through to the reading-desk, 
where his message was snatched by the clerL 
Again there was a wild surge toward the desk, 
and a silence, broken only by derisive cheers from 
the boys, while the clerk glanced over it. 

“Cedarville gives seventy votes for Kimball, 
and a hundred and ten for Talcott.” 

The Independents shouted themselves hoarse, 
and flung their caps in the air. Talcott had 
carried both of the towns of the county ; he was 
sure of the farmers. The boys howled like sav- 
ages, and tripped each other over the railings and 
seats, boxed hats, punched the men in the back, 
and hid around their legs; while the clerk went 
on with his reading, at more and more frequent 
intervals, of reports from other States and dis- 
tricts of the congressional field. The old-line 
Democrats were delirious with joy. The promised 
land was in sight. 

It was about half past twelve o’clock when 
Colonel Russell conceded Bradley’s election, and 
two stout men toiled up the stairs, bringing his 
forfeit of two barrels of apples. Amid wilds yells 
from the crowd, they threw the barrels to the 
floor, where they burst, and sent Northern Spys 
rolling in every direction. 

Then came a wilder roar and scramble, that 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


199 


outdid everything that had gone before, and a 
surging mass of struggling men and boys covered 
the apples. They threw themselves upon each 
other’s backs. They clawed like wild-cats, barked 
like wolves. They kicked each other out of the 
way, and scratched and mauled each other, crush- 
ing hats, tearing coats, bruising shins. As fast 
as one man filled his hands or arms or pockets, 
the others set upon him, struck them from his 
arm, snatched them from his hands, tore them 
from his pockets, or tripped him headlong to the 
floor, where he rolled in the filthy sawdust, under 
the feet of the crazy mob. 

The wrestle of starving wild hogs for corn or 
potatoes could not have been more tumultuous or 
ear-splitting than this ferocious, jovial scramble. 
It ceased only when the last apple was secured, 
so that none could snatch it away. Then began 
the fusilade of cores and parings. Shining stove- 
pipe hats were choice game, and to throw a core 
clean through a silk hat was a distinction which 
everybody seemed to covet. In five minutes not 
a tall hat was to be seen. Colonel Peavy wrapped 
his handkerchief around his, thus drawing upon 
himself the attack of the entire crowd, and he 
^ was forced to retreat. 

Then they threw at faces and bald heads. The 


200 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


uproar redoubled. No one was drunk, no one 
was mad; but the scene was furious with mirth. 
It was contagious. Word spread outside, and the 
whole male population of the town jammed into 
the stairway, and struggled furiously to reach the 
court-room, where the fun was going on. A 
stranger would have imagined it the loosing of 
the hordes of hell. 

In the streets of the town, the boys, without 
the slightest care about who was elected, were 
stealing kerosene barrels and dry-goods boxes, in 
order to keep the bonfire going. When they 
heard of the free apples which they had missed 
by their zeal in bonfiring, a bitterness came upon 
them, and they came together and tried to organ- 
ize a committee to go down and see Judge Brown 
and state their grievance. 

At last one desperate young fellow took the 
lead, and the rest marched after. He moved off 
down the street, shouting through his closed lips 
btiniy hum, bum, bum!'* The rest took 
up the drum-like cry, and marched after him two 
and two. They made straight toward Judge 
Brown’s office, where they knew Bradley was. 
They halted and raised a great shout. 

“Three cheers for the Honorable Brad,” and 
gave them wildly. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


201 


This brought the Judge out; and when they 
saw him, they yelled in lugubrious tones, as if 
they were starving, “Apples ! apples!” 

The Judge shouted down, “All right, boys. I’ll 
send Robie up. He’ll roll out all the apples you 
want.” The boys gave another cheer, and left. 

Bradley sat there in the Judge’s office in a sort 
of daze. He could not say a word. His thought 
was not clear. He was not at all anxious.^ 
Somehow he could not feel that it was his fate 
that was being decided. On the contrary, it 
seemed to be some other person. He was not 
excited ; he was only puzzled and wondering. 

At last the crowd was heard coming from the 
Court House. Wild cheers sounded faintly far 
up the street. The sound of a band was heard, 
and the marching of feet, rhythmic on the side- 
walks. There came the sound of rapid footsteps, 
and so familiar was Bradley with the sidewalk 
that he knew exactly where the runners were by 
the different note given out by each section of 
planking. They were crossing the street. Now 
they came across the warped and clattering length 
before the butcher shop. Then over the crisp, 
solid planking before Robie’s. Then came a rush 
up the stairway, and Milton and young Mason 
burst into the room. 


202 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“Hurrah, we’ve carried you through! You’re 
elected, sure as guns I ” 

“Three cheers for Democracy and progress,” 
shouted the Judge, in high excitement, from the 
open windows. They were given with tremend- 
ous vigor by the crowd from below and the band 
struck up “ Hail Columbia.” 

^ ^ * * 

It was two o’clock when Bradley and the Judge 
got away from the crowd and went home to bed. 
They found Mrs. Brown sitting up. With the4 
customary thoughtlessness of men, neither of- 
them had taken her anxiety into account. 

“Well, Mrs. Brown, are you up ? ” 

“Yes, Mr. Brown; I wanted to hear the news. 
You didn’t suppose I could go to bed without it,” 
she replied calmly, though she was trembling with 
eagerness. 

“Well, we’re elected, Mrs. Brown,” said the 
~udge proudly. 

She came up to Bradley timidly, a longing 
mixed with pride expressed in her face. Bradley 
took her in his arms, and laid her cheek on his 
shoulder. She stood before him like a mother 
now. He felt her pride in him, and she had 
grown very dear to him. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


203 


XVIII. 

“don’t blow out the gas.” 

Des Moines appeared to Bradley to be very 
great and very noisy. It was the largest city he 
had ever seen. He was born in Eastern Wiscon- 
sin on a farm, and his early life had been spent 
far from any populous centre ; very largely, in- 
deed, in the timber-lands. He had been in 
Lacrosse, that is to say, he changed cars there, 
and Rock River and Iowa City were the only 
^ towns he had ever lived in. 

He had the preconception that Des Moines was 
a fine city, but its streets seemed endless to him 
that cold, clear night that he got off the train and 
walked up the sidewalk. He had been told to" go 
right to the Windom House, because there was 
the legislative headquarters. He walked, carry- 
ing his valise in his hand, and looking furtively 
about him. He knew he ought not to do so, 


204 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


but the life about him and the endless rows of 
vast buildings fascinated him — drew his attention 
constantly. 

The portico of the hotel awed him with its red 
sandstone magnificence, and he moved timidly on 
toward the centre of the rotunda with hesitating 
and uncertain steps. It seemed to be the realiza- 
tion of his imaginings of Chicago. It subdued 
him into absolute clownishness ; and the porter 
who rushed toward him and took his valise from 
his hands, classified him off-hand as another one 
of those country fellows who must be watched 
and prevented from blowing out the gas. Brad- 
ley signed his name on the book without any 
flourishes, and without writing the “ Honorable ” 
before his name, as most of the other members 
had done. 

Front!” yelled the clerk, in an imperative 
voice. Bradley started, and then grew hot over ^ 
his foolishness. ‘‘Show this gentleman to No. 30. 
Like dinner.^” the clerk asked, in a kindly inter- 
est. Bradley nodded, suddenly remembering that 
in fashionable life dinner came at six o’clock. 

“ All ready in about ten minutes,” the clerk said, 
looking at the clock. 

Bradley followed the boy to the elevator. He 
noticed that the darkey did not enter with him, 


9 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


205 


but ran up the stairs. He could see him rushing 
around the curves, his hands sliding on the rail- 
ings. He met him at the door of the elevator and 
motioned to him — “This way, suh.” There was 
something in his tone that puzzled Bradley ; and 
as he walked along the hall, he thought of the soft 
carpet under his feet (it must have been two 
inches thick) and of that tone in the boy’s voice. 

A dull fire of soft coal was burning on the 
grate, and the boy punched it up, and said, 
“’Nother gent jes’ left. I git some mo’ coal.” 

The room, like all hotel rooms, was a desolate 
place, notwithstanding its one or two elaborate 
pieces of furniture, its fine carpet, and its easy 
chair. It had a distinctly homeless quality. Brad- 
ley sat down in the big chair before the fire, and 
took time to think it all over. He was really 
here as a legislator for a great State. The 
responsibility and honor of the position came 
upon him strongly as he sat there alone in this 
great hotel looking at the fire. That he, of all 
the men in his county, should have been selected 
for this office, was magnificent. He drew a long 
sigh, and said inwardly : 

“I’ll be true to my trust.” And he meant, in 
addition, to be so dignified and serious that he 
would not seem young to the other legislators. 


206 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


He was reading, from a little frame on the wall, 
the rules of the house when the boy knocked on 
the door, and started away toward the fire so that 
the boy should not suspect what he had been 
doing. He returned to the reading, however, 
after the boy had gone out. He read ‘‘ Don’t 
Blow out the Gas,” without feeling it an imperti- 
nence, and went over to read the code of signals 
posted above the bell punch. 

Ring once for Bell Boy. 

Ring twice for Ice Water. 

Ring three for Fire. 

Ring four for Chambermaid. 

His mind went off in a pursuit of trivial mat- 
ters concerning this code. What would happen 
if he rang three times — which he thought stood 
for alarm of fire. In imagination he heard the out- 
cries throughout the various floors and rooms of 
the house. Then his mind went back to the fact 
that the boy was not allowed to ride in the eleva- 
tor. He wondered if this touch of southern feel- 
ing would ever get any farther north. For the 
first time in his life he had met the question of 
caste. 

•He went down to supper, as he called it him- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


207 


self, in the dining-room, which he found to be a 
very large and splendid apartment. A waiter in 
a dress coat (he had never seen a live figure in a 
dress coat before) met him at the door, and with 
elaborate authority called another darkey, in a 
similar dress coat, to show him to a chair. 

The second darkey led his way down the pol- 
ished floor (which Bradley walked with difficulty), 
his coat tails wagging in a curious fashion, by 
reason of the action of his bow legs. He was 
obliged to take the uncomprehending Bradley by 
the arm, while he shoved the chair under him ; 
but he did it so courteously that no one noticed 
it. He was accustomed to give this silent instruc- 
tion in ceremonials. Bradley noticed that, not- 
withstanding the splendor of his shirt-front, col- 
lar and dress-coat, his shoes were badly broken, 
though highly polished. 

A man sat at the opposite side of the table 
reading a paper over his coffee. He attracted 
Bradley’s attention because he had a scowl on 
his face, and his hair was tumbled picturesquely 
about his forehead. Even his brown moustache 
contrived to have an oddly dishevelled look. 

They ate in silence for some time, or rather 
Bradley did; the other man read and sipped his 
coffee, and continued to frown and swear under 


208 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


his breath. At length he burst forth in a sup- 
pressed exclamation: “Well, I’ll be damned.” 
When he looked at Bradley, his eyes were 
friendly, and he seemed to require some one 
to talk to. 

“These devilish railroads will own the country, 
body and breeches yet.” 

“ What are they up to now } ” said Bradley. 
“They’ve secured Joe Manley as their attorney, 
one of the best lawyers in the State. It’s too 
cussed bad,” He looked sad. “I can’t account 
for it. I suppose he got hard up, and couldn’t 
stand the pressure. I wonder if you know how 
these infernal corporations capture a State ! ” 

“No, but I’d like to know. I’m down here to 
fight ’em.” 

“ That so ? From where .? ” 

“From Rock County. I’m the representative; 
Talcott is my name,” Bradley said, seizing an 
excuse to announce himself. 

“/f that so! Well, now. I’m an old cock in 
the pit, and I want to warn you. I’ve known 
many a fine, honest fellow to get involved. Now 
I’ll tell you how it’s done. Before you have been 
here a week, some of these railroads will send for 
you, and tell you they’ve heard of you as a promi- 
nent young lawyer of the State. Oh, they’ve 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


209 


heard of you, we’ve all heard of your canvass; 
and as they are in ne^d of an attorney in your 
county, they’d like very much to have you take 
charge, etc., of any legislation that may arise 
there, and so on. There may not be a week’s 
work during the year, and there may be a great 
deal, etc., but they will be glad to pay you six 
hundred dollars or eight hundred dollars, if you 
will take the position. 

“Well, we’ll suppose you take it. You go 
back to Rock, there is very little business for the 
railroad, but your salary comes in regularly. You 
say to yourself that, in case any work comes in 
which is dishonorable, you’ll refuse to take hold 
of it. But that money comes in nicely. You 
marry on the expectations of its continuance. 
You get to depending upon it. You live up to it. 
You don’t find anything which they demand of 
you really dishonest, and you keep on ; but really 
cases of the railroad against the people do come 
up, and your sense of justice isn’t so acute as it 
used to be. You manage to argue yourself into 
doing it. If you don’t do it, somebody else will, 
etc., and so you keep on.” 

After an impressive pause, during which the 
speaker gazed in his face, he finished : “ Suddenly 
the war of the corporation against the people is 


210 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


oh US, and you find you are the paid tool of the 
corporation, and that the people are distrustful of 
you, and that you are practically helpless.” 

The man spoke in a low voice, but somehow 
his words had the quality of exciting the imagina- 
tion. Bradley thrilled at the picture of moral 
disintegration hinted at. The imaginative tragedy 
was brought very close to him. 

*‘Do they really do that.^” he asked. 

“That’s apart of their plan. The proof of it 
will be in the offer which they’ll make to you in 
less than ten days. They’re always on the look- 
out for such men, especially men who have the 
confidence of the farmers. The next war in this 
State and in the nation is to be a railway war.” 

“You think so. I think the tariff” — 

“What is the tariff, compared to the robbery 
that makes Gould and Sage and Vanderbilt.^ I 
tell you, young man, the corporations in this 
country are eating the life out of it. This power 
of three men to get together, steal the privilege 
from the people, and by their joint action to pro- 
duce a fourth body {corpus)^ behind which they 
hide and push their schemes — an intangible some- 
thing which outlives them all — that is the power 
that is undermining this government. It’s against 
the Constitution. Old Chief Justice Marshall in 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


211 


his verdict (which ushered in the reign of corpo- 
rations, in this country) distinctly said that it 
was based on usurpation, dating back to the 
Stuarts or the Georges ; and the hint in that was, 
that it was un-American and un-Constitutional.” 

Bradley perceived that he was in the presence 
of another reformer like himself. He wondered 
if he seemed so cranky to other men. He was 
interested by the man’s evident thought and hon- 
esty of purpose and by the sympathy of a city 
man with a farmer’s fight. 

“You’re with us in our fight against the 
railroads } ” 

The man threw one arm back over the top of 
his chair and looked at Bradley out of his half- 
closed eyes. “ Of course. Only you’re so damned 
narrow. Excuse me. You don’t see that you’ve 
got to kill every corporation. Every corporation 
is an infringement of individual rights. When 
three men go into business as a firm, they should 
every one be liable for every contract which they 
make. The creation of an intangible corporate 
personality is a trick* to evade liability. Make 
war against the whole system,” he said, rising. 
“Don’t go fooling about with regulating fares and 
forming commissions. Declare corporations ille- 
gal, and let the people know their practices.” 


212 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


They went down to the rotunda floor together. 
The electric lights flooded the brilliant marbles 
with a dazzling light. Groups of men were gath- 
ered around spittoons, talking earnestly, gesticu- 
lating with fists and elaborate broad-hand, free- 
arm movements — political gestures, as Bradley 
recognized. 

“These are your colleagues and their parasites,” 
said Bradley’s companion, whose name was Car- 
gill. “ Know any of ’em } ” 

“No ; I don’t know any of the legislators.” 

Cargill led Bradley up to a group which sur- 
rounded a gigantic old man who leaned on a cane 
and gesticulated with his powerful left hand. 

“Senator Wood, let me introduce Hon. Brad- 
ley Talcott, of Rock.” 

“Ah, glad to see you, sir. Glad to see you. 
Gentlemen, this is the young man who made that 
gallant fight up in Rock. This is the Hon. Jones 
of Boone, Mr. Talcott, and this is Sam Wells of 
Cerro Gordo, one of the most remorseless jokers 
in the House. Look out for him ! ” 

After shaking hands all about, Bradley hastened 
to say, “Don’t let me interrupt. Go on, senator. 
I want to listen.” This made a fine impression 
on the senator, who loved dearly to hear the 
sound of his own voice. He proceeded to enlarge 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


2U 

upon his plan for gerrymandering the state — to 
the advantage of the Democratic party, of course. 

In the talk which followed, Bradley was brought 
face to face with the fact that these men were 
more earnest in maintaining the hold of their par- 
ties upon the offices than principles of legislation. 
They were not legislators in any instances ; they 
were gamesters. 

“Now, let me tell you something more,” said 
Cargill, as he led his way back to a settee near 
the wall. He drew up a chair for his feet, lighted 
his cigar, pulled his little soft hat down to the 
bridge of his nose, put one thumb behind his 
vest, and began in a peculiarly sardonic tone: 
“Now, here is where the legislation really takes 
place — here and at the Iowa House. See those 
fellows.^” He waved his hand in a circle around 
the rotunda, now filled with stalwart men laugh- 
ing loudly or talking in confidential, deeply inter- 
ested groups, with their heads close together. 
“There are the supposed law-makers of the State. 
What do you think of them, anyway } ” 

Bradley was silent. He was so filled with new 
sensations and ideas that he could not talk. 

Cargill mused a little. “I suppose it all 
appears to you as something very fine and very 
important. Now, don’t make a mistake. The 


214 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


most of these fellows are not even average men. 
I have a theory that, take it one ten years with 
another, the legislatures of our country must be 
necessarily beneath the average, because the man 
who is a thinker or a moralist necessarily repre- 
sents a minority. Anyhow, these men support 
my theory, don’t they?” 

There was a distinct bitterness in his tone that 
made his words sink deep. There was a touch of 
literary grace also in his phrases, quite unlike 
anything Bradley had ever heard. “You imagine 
these men honest. You say ‘they differ from 
/ me ’ honestly. But I know there is no question 
; of principle in their action. They simply say 
No. I first, party next, and principle last of all. 

! I remember how awe-struck I was during my first 
j term. Now, don’t waste any nervous energy on 
I admiring these men or standing in awe of them. 

* Jump right in and take care of yourself. Vote 
for party, but make arrangements before you vote 
— no; I forgot. You stand for a real principle, 
and success may lie for you in standing by it. 
Yes, on the whole, I believe I would stand by 
principle; it will bring you out in greater relief 
from the rest of them, and then the people may 
begin to think. I doubt it, however.” 

“You are a pessimist, then,” said Bradley, feel- 






A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


215 


ing that there was an undercurrent of dark philos- 
ophy in Cargill’s voice. 

“I am. The whole damned thing is a botch, 
in my opinion. You may find it different,” he 
said, with a mocking gleam in his eyes as he rose 
and walked away. Bradley did not believe the 
man meant half he said, and yet his bitterness 
had thrown a sombre shadow over his heart. 
The vista ahead was not quite so bright as it had 
been except where Miss Wilbur seemed to walk. 
He longed to go out and find her, and tried to 
content himself with walking up and down the 
street, which seemed incredibly brilliant with its 
lighted windows and streams of gay young people 
coming and going. 

At last he came to a corner where he saw the 
name of her street upon the lamp post, and the 
hunger to see her was irresistible. He rushed up 
the street with desperate haste. He wished he 
had started sooner. It was eight o’clock and 
there was danger that she might be gone out. 
The electric cars hardly diverted him as they 
came floating weirdly down the line — the trolley 
invisible, the wheels emitting green sheets of 
light at the crossings. 

The street grew more quiet as it climbed the 
hill, and at last became quite like Rock River, 


216 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


with its rows of small wooden houses on each side 
of the maple-lined streets, through which the 
keen wind went hissing. The stars glittered 
through the clear cold air like crystals of green 
and gold and white fire. As he walked along, 
his newly acquired honors fell away from him, 
together with his war for the grange, and his 
ambitious plans displayed their warmer side. He 
began to feel that all he was and was to do must 
be shared with a woman in order that he could 
enjoy it himself, and he had known for a long 
time that Ida was that woman. 

His face lifted to the stars as he implored their 
aid in a vast and dangerous enterprise. It meant 
all or nothing to him. He was in the mood to 
risk all his life and plans that night if she had 
been with him. The strangeness of the city had 
exalted him to the mood where his timidity was 
gone. 

When he came to the house, he found it all 
dark save a dim light in the rear, and it made him 
shiver with a premonition of failure. A servant 
girl answered his ring. He had the hope that 
this was the wrong house after all. 

“Can you tell me if Miss Wilbur lives here.^” 

“Yassir, but she nat haar,” answered the girl, 
with the Norwegian accent. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


217 


“ Where is she ? ” 

“Ay nat know. Ay tank she ees good ways 
off ; her moder she ees gawn to churtz.” 

Bradley no longer looked at the stars as he 
walked along the street. All his doubts and fears 
and his timidity and his reticence came back upon 
him, and something warm and sweet seemed to 
go out of the far vista of his life. He felt that 
he had lost her. 


218 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XIX. 

CARGILL TAKES BRADLEY IN HAND. 

Cargill was not at the table the next morn- 
ing, but he came in later, and greeted Bradley 
brusquely, as he flung his rag of a hat on the 
floor. 

“Well, legislator, what is on the tapis this 
morning ? Anything I can do for you ? ” 

“No, I guess not. I am going to look up a 
new boarding-house.” 

“What’s the matter with this ? ” 

“Too rich for my blood.” 

“Just repeat that, please.” 

“Can’t stand the expense.” 

Cargill poured the cream on his oatmeal before 
he replied : “ But, dear sir, nothing is too good for 
a representative. Young man, you don’t seem to 
know how to farm yourself out.” 

All day Saturday the Richwood rotunda was 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


219 


crowded with men. The speakerships, the house 
offices, were being contested for here ; the real 
battle was being fought here, and under Cargill’s 
cynical comment the scene assumed great signifi- 
cance to Bradley’s uninitiated eyes. They took 
seats on the balcony which ran around the 
“bear pit,” as he called it. Around them, 
flitting to and fro, were dozens of bright, rather 
self-sufficient young women. 

“This is one of the most dangerous and demor- 
alizing features of each legislature,” he said to 
Bradley. “These girls come down here from 
every part of the State to cajole and flatter their 
way into a State House office. You see them 
down there buttonholing every man they can get 
an introduction to, and some of them don’t even 
wait for an introduction. They’d be after you if 
you were a Republican.” 

Bradley looked out upon it all with a growing-^ 
shadow in his eyes. He suddenly saw terrible/ 
results of this unwomanly struggle for office.-^ 
He saw back of it also the need for employ-/ 
ment which really forced these girls into such a |/ 
contest. 

“They soon learn,” Cargill was saying, “where 
their strength lies. The pretty ones and the 
bold ones succeed where the plain and timid ones 


220 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


fail. It has its abuses. Good God, how could it 
be otherwise ! It’s a part of our legislative rot- 
tenness. Legal labor pays so little, and vice and 
corruption pay so well. Now see those two girls 
button-holing that leprous old goat Bergheim ! If 
it don’t mean ruin to them both, it will be because 
they’re as knowing as he is. Every year this 
thing goes on. What the friends and parents of 
these girls are thinking of. I’ll be damned if I 
know.” 

Bradley was dumb with the horror of it all. 
He had such an instinctive reverence for women 
that this scene produced in him a profound, almost 
despairing sorrow. He sat there after Cargill left 
him, and gazed upon it all with stern eyes. There 
was no more tragical thing to him than the woman 
who could willingly allure men for pay. It made 
him shudder to see those bright, pretty girls go 
down among those men, whose hard, peculiar, 
savage stare he knew almost as well as a woman. 

They did not know that he was a legislator, 
and he escaped their importunities ; but he over- 
heard several of them, as they came up with some 
member — sometimes a married man — and took 
seats on the balcony near him. 

*^But you had no business to promise Miss 
Jones ! How could you when I was living.?” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


221 


*‘But I didn’t know you then!” 

‘‘ Well, then, now you’ve seen me, you can tell 
Miss Jones your contract don’t go,” laughed the 
girl. 

‘*Oh, that wouldn’t do, she’d kick.” 

“ Let’er kick. She aint got any people who are 
constituents. My people are your constituents.” 

Bradley walked away sick at heart. As he 
passed a settee near the stairway, he saw another 
girl with a childish face looking up at a hard- 
featured young man, and saying with eager, wist- 
ful voice, her hands clasped, Oh, I hope you can 
help me. I need it so much.” 

Her sweet face haunted him because of its 
suggested helplessness and its danger. His heart 
swelled with an indefinable and bitter rebellionN^ 
Everywhere was a scramble for office — every- / 
where a pouring into the city from the farms ancy 
villages. Why was it } Was he not a part of th^ 
movement as well as these girls ? Did it not all/ 
spring from the barrenness and vacuity of rura 
life ? 

Bradley went to church, for the reason that he 
had nothing better to do, and, in order to get as 
much out of it as possible, went to the largest 
sanctuary in the city. The hotels were thronged 
by men who took little thought of the day. The 



222 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


rotunda echoed with roaring laughter and the 
tramp of feet. Every new member was being 
introduced and manipulated, but Bradley shrank 
from declaring himself. His name, B. Talcott, 
conveyed no information to those who saw it on 
the register, and so he sat aside from the crowd 
all day, untouched by the male lobbyist or the 
girl office seekers. 

He went next day, according to promise, to call 
at Cargill’s office, which was on the fifth floor of 
a large six-story building on the main street. 
There were two ornamental ground-glass doors 
opening from the end of a narrow hall. One was 
marked, ‘‘Bergen & Cargill, Commission Mer- 
chants, Private,” and Bradley entered. A man 
seated at a low table was operating a telegraphic 
machine. He was in his shirt sleeves, and wore 
blue checked over-sleeves, and carried a handker- 
chief under his chin to keep his collar from get- 
ting soiled. He sat near two desks which sepa- 
rated the private room from the larger room, in 
which were seated several men looking at one 
side of the wall, which was a blackboard checked 
off in small squares by red lines. Columns of 
figures in chalk were there displayed. 

Cargill did not seem to be about, and the busy 
operator did not see the visitor. A brisk young 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


223 


man of Scandinavian type was walking about in 
the larger office with a piece of chalk in his hand. 
He came to the desk and looked inquiringly at 
Bradley, who started to speak, but the sonorous 
voice of the operator interrupted him. 

Three eighths bid on wheat,” he called, and 
handed a little slip of paper to the brisk young 
man with the flaxen mustache. 

“ Wheat, three eighths,” he repeated in a reso- 
nant tone, and proceeded to put the figures in a 
small square under the section marked “ Wheat ” 
on the blackboard. When he came back, Bradley 
asked for Cargill. 

“He’ll be in soon ; take a seat.” 

“Three eighths bid. They still hammer the 
market, as they sold short,” shouted the operator. 

Bergen repeated the telegram to the crowd. 
“ Of course they’ll do that,” said one of the 
smokers, a young man with an assumption of 
great wisdom on all matters relating to wheat. 
He looked prematurely knowing, and spit with a 
manly air. 

As Bradley took a seat at the desk, Bergen 
was calling into the telephone in a high, sonorous, 
monotonous voice, “ Wheat opened at ninety-three, 
three quarters ; sold as high as ninety-four ; is 
now ninety-three and three eighths. Corn opened 


224 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


at forty-two ; is now forty-one and seven eighths. 
Bradstreet’s decrease on both coasts the past 
week, two and a quarter millions. Cables very 
strong.” 

Cargill came in a little later, and greeted Brad- 
ley with a nod while crossing the room to look 
at the blackboard. 

“Draw up a chair,” he said, and they took a 
seat at the table, while the business of the office 
went on. “You’ll be interested in knowing some- 
thing about this business,” he said to Bradley. 
“It’s as legitimate as buying or selling real estate 
on a commission ; but so far as the popular 
impression goes, there is no difference between 
this and a bucket-shop.” 

“It’s all very new to me,” said Bradley. “I 
don’t know the difference between this and the 
bucket-shop.” 

“Ninety-three and seven eighths bid on wheat,” 
called Bergen from a slip, as he walked back and 
chalked the latest intelligence upon the board. 

“Well, there is a difference. In this case, we 
simply buy and sell on commission. These are 
real purchases and sales. The order for wheat is 
transmitted to Chicago and registered, and has its 
effect upon the market ; whereas in a bucket-shop 
the sale does not go out of the office, and, if there 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


225 


is a loss to the customer, the proprietor gains it. 
In other words, we buy and sell for others, with 
no personal interest in the sale ; the bucket-shop 
is a pure gambling establishment, where men bet 
on what other men are going to do. But that 
ain’t what I had you call to talk over. I want 
you to meet Bergen. Chris, come over here,” 
he called. “ I want to introduce the Honorable 
Talcott of Rock River. He’s started in, like 
yourself, to reform politics. 

“The reason why I wanted you to meet Ber- 
gen,” Cargill went on, “is because he is a sincerer 
lover of literature than myself, and like yourself, I 
imagine, believes thoroughly in the classics. He’s 
translating Ibsen for the Square Table Club. 
His idea of amusement ain’t mine, I needn’t say.” 

“ New York still hammers away on the market. 
Partridge quietly buying to cover on the decline.” 

“ Excuse me a moment,” said Bergen, returning 
to business. 

Cargill took an easy position. “ I don’t know 
why I have sized you up as literary in general 
effect, but I have. That’s one reason why I took 
to you. It’s so damned unusual to find a politi- 
cian that has a single idea above votes. And 
then I’m literary myself,” he said, his face a mask 
of impenetrable gravity. “ I wrote up the sheep 


226 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


industry of Iowa for the Agricultural Encyclopae 
dia. That puts me in the front rank of Des 
Moines literary aspirants. 

“Towns like this,” he said, going off on a 
speculative side track, “have a two-per-cent, popu- 
lation who are inordinately literary. They recog- 
nize my genius. The other ninety-eight per cent, 
don’t care a continental damn for Shakespeare or 
anybody else, barring Mary Jane Holmes, of 
course, and the five-cent story papers. But liter- 
ary Des Moines is literary. They stand by 
Shakespeare and Homer, I can tell you, and they 
recognize genius when they see it. By the way, 
Bergen,” he said, calling his brother-in-law to him 
again, “ we must make this young man acquainted 
with our one literary girl.” 

“Wheat is ninety-four bid. New York strong.” 
It was impossible to hold Bergen’s attention, how- 
ever, with a sharp bulge on the market, and Car- 
gill was forced to turn to Bradley again. 

“There is a girl in this town who has the liter- 
ary quality. True, she has recognized my ability, 
which prejudices me in her favor, of course. In 
turn I presented her with my report on the sheep 
industry.” 

Bradley laughed, but Cargill proceeded as if 
there were nothing funny in the situation — 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


227 


“And she read it, actually, and quoted it in 
one of her great speeches. It made the reporter 
bug out his eyes. He said he had observed of 
late quite a vein of poetry running through Miss 
Wilbur’s speeches, which lifted them out of the 
common rut.” 

Bradley lost sight of the humor in this speech 
at the sound of Ida’s name, and his face flushed. 
He had not heard her name spoken by a third 
person in months, and had never dared to say it 
out loud himself. 

Cargill went on: “She’s an infernal heretic 
and suffragist and all that, but she’s a power. 
Her name is Wilbur — Ida Wilbur. Used to lec- 
ture for the Grange or something of that kind. 
Is still lecturing, I believe, but the Grange has 
snuffed out.” 

Six or eight men came into the larger room 
talking loudly and excitedly about the market, and 
Cargill’s attention was drawn off by the resonant 
reports of the Chicago market. 

“The market shows great elasticity. Western 
advices contribute to the Bull feeling.” 

“Do you know Miss Wilbur Bradley asked 
when Cargill came back, being afraid Cargill 
might forget the topic of conversation. 

“Yes, I meet her occasionally. I meet her at 


228 


A SPIOL OF OFFICE. 


the Square Table Club, where we fight on lit- 
erature. They call it the Square Table Club, 
because they disagree with the opinions of the 
most of us real literary people of the town.” 

Bradley managed to say, in a comparatively 
firm tone of voice, that he had heard of Miss Wil- 
bur as a Grange lecturer, and that he would like 
to know more about her. 

/“Well, ril introduce you. She aint very easy 
t?o understand. She is one of these infernal 
Advanced women. Now, I like thinkers, but 
what right has a woman to think.!* To think 
jVour manly prerogative. Tm free to admit that 
we, don’t exercise it to much better advantage 
than we do our prerogative to vote; but then, 
damn it, how could we stand wives that think.!*” 

Bradley had given up trying to understand 
when Cargill was joking and when he was in 
earnest. He knew this was either merciless 
sarcasm or the most pig-headed bigotry. Any- 
how he did not care to say anything for fear of 
drawing him off into a discussion of an imper- 
sonal subject, just when he seemed likely to tell 
something about Ida’s early life. 

It was a singular place to receive this informa- 
tion. He sat there with his elbow on the desk, 
leaning his head on his palm, studying Cargill’s 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


229 


face as he talked. Over at the other end of the 
room, the operator was feeding himself on a 
pickle with his left hand, and receiving the tele- 
grams from the far-off, roaring, tumultuous wheat 
exchange, every repeated message being a sort of 
distant echo of the ocean of cries and the tumult 
of feet in the city. They were as much alone 
and talking in private as if they were in Cargill’s 
own room at the hotel. Cargill talked on, un- 
mindful of the telephone, the telegraphic ticking, 
and the brisk, business-like action of his partner. 

‘‘Yes, I have known her ever since she was a 
girl. Her father was a queer old seed of a farmer, 
just out of town here, cranky on religion — a Uni- 
versalist, I believe. Had the largest library of 
his town ; I don’t know but the largest private 
library outside of a city in the State. His house 
was literally walled with books. How he got ’em 
I don’t know. It was currently believed that he 
was full of information, but I never heard of any 
one who was able to get very much out of him. 
His wife had been a beauty; that was her dowry 
to her daughter. 

“The girl went to school here at sixteen. I 
was a student then, six or seven years older than 
she, and I remember there were about six of us 
who used to stand around the schoolhouse door to 


230 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


carry her books for her; but she just walked past 
us all without a turn of the head. She didn’t 
seem to know what ailed us. She was one of 
these girls born all brains, some way. I never 
saw her face flushed in my life, and her big eyes 
always made me shiver when she turned them on 
me.” 

“Wheat falls to ninety-three and a fourth. 
There is a break in the market. New York is 
still hammering,” called the operator, his mouth 
full of pie. 

Cargill was distinctly talking to himself, almost 
as much as to Bradley. The hardness had gone 
out of his eyes, and his voice had a touch of 
unconscious sadness in it. 

“Does Miss Wilbur live here.^^” Bradley asked, 
to start him off again. 

“Yes, she went into the Grange when she was 
eighteen, just after she graduated from our uni- 
versity here. Had a good deal of your enthusi- 
asm, I should judge. Expected to revolutionize 
things some way. I don’t take very much inter- 
est in her public work, but I thoroughly appre- 
ciate her literary perception.” He had got back 
to his usual humor. 

“Chris, when does the club meet next.?” 

“Friday night, I believe.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


231 


“All right, ril take you up, and introduce 
you into the charmed circle. They pride them- 
selves on being modern up there, though I don’t 
see much glory in being modern.” 

Bradley stood for a moment at the door, look- 
ing at this strange scene. It appealed to him 
with its strangeness, and its suggestion of the 
great battles on the street which he had read of 
in the papers. The telegraph machine clicked 
out every important movement in Chicago and 
New York. The manager called up his custom- 
ers, and bawled into the telephone the condition 
of the market and the significant gossip of the far- 
off exchange halls. It was so strange, and yet so 
familiar, that he went away with his head full of 
those cabalistic sentences — 

“New York still hammering away. Partridge 
quietly buying to cover on the decline.” 


232 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XX. 

AT THE STATE HOUSE. 

That the invitation to attend the Square Table 
Club over-shadowed the importance and signifi- 
cance of Bradley’s entrance into public life, was 
an excellent commentary upon his real character. 
The State House, however, appealed to his imag- 
ination very strongly as he walked up its unfin- 
ished lawn, amid the heaps of huge limestone 
blocks, his eyes upon the looming fagade of the 
west front. He walked the echoing rotunda with 
a timid air; and the beautiful soaring vault was 
so majestic in his eyes, he wondered if Wash- 
ington could be finer. There were a few other 
greenhorns, like himself, looking the building 
over with the same minute scrutiny. He entered 
all of the rooms into which it was possible to 
penetrate, and at last into the library, a cheerful, 
rectangular room, into which the sun streamed 
plenteously. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


233 


There was hardly any one in either the Senate 
or the Representative Halls except farmer-like 
groups of people, sometimes a family group of 
four or five, including the grandmother or grand- 
father. They were mainly in rough best suits of 
gray, or ostentatiously striped cassimere. The 
young men wore wide hats, pushed back, in some 
cases, to display a smooth, curling wave of hair, 
carefully combed down over their foreheads. He 
was able to catalogue them by reference to his old 
companions, Ed Blackler, Shep Watson, Sever 
Anderson, and others. 

Soon the crowds thickened, and groups of men 
entered, talking and laughing loudly. They were 
wholly at their ease, being plainly old and experi- 
enced members. They greeted each other with 
boisterous cries and powerful handshaking. 

Hello, Stineberg, I hoped you’d git snowed 
under. Back again, eh } ” 

‘‘Well, I’ll be damned! Aint your county got 
any more sense than to send such a specimen 
as you back.? Why weren’t you around to the 
caucus .? ” 

Bradley stood around awkwardly alone, not 
knowing just what to do. Perhaps some of these 
men would be glad to see him if they knew him, 
but he could not think of going to introduce him- 


234 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


self. Being new in politics, there was not a man 
there whose face he recognized. The few that he 
had met at the hotel were not in sight. He felt 
as if he had been thrust into this jovial company, 
and was unwelcome. 

The House was called to order by one of the 
members of the capital county, and prayer was 
offered. He sat quietly in his seat as things went 
on. The session adjourned after electing tem- 
porary speaker, clerk, etc. Bradley felt so alien 
to it all that he scarcely took the trouble to 
vote ; and when the committee on credentials was 
appointed, he felt nervously in his pocket to see 
that his papers were safe. He felt very much as 
he used to when, as a boy, he went to have his 
hair cut, and sat in torture during the whole oper- 
ation, in the fear that his quarter (all he had with 
him) might be lost, and trembling to think what 
would happen in such a case. 

That night he moved to a new boarding-place. 
He secured a room near the Capitol, and went to 
supper in a small private house near by, which 
had a most astonishing amplitude of dining-room. 
He felt quite at home there, for the food was put 
on the table in the good old way, and passed 
around from hand to hand. The mashed potato 
tasted better, piled high, with a lump of butter in 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


235 


the top of it ; and the slices of roast beef, out- 
spread on the platter, enabled him to get the crisp 
outside, if it happened to start from his end of the 
table. There were judges and generals and sena- 
tors and legislators of various ranks all about him. 
Crude, rough, wholesome fellows, most of them, 
with big, brawny hands like his own, and loud, 
hearty voices. It was impossible to stand in awe 
of a judge who handled his knife more deftly than 
his fork, and spooned the potato out of the big, 
earthen-ware dish with a resounding slap. He 
began to see that these men were exactly like the 
people he had been with all his life. He argued, 
however, that they were perhaps the poorer and 
the more honorable part of the legislature. 

He wrote a note to Judge Brown, telling him 
that he was settled, but was taking very little part 
in the organizing of the House. He did not say 
that he was disappointed in his reception, but he 
was ; his vanity had been hurt. His canvass had 
attracted considerable attention from the Demo- 
cratic press of the country, and he expected to be 
received with great favor by them. He had come 
out of Republicanism for their sake, and they 
ought to recognize him. He did not consider 
that no one knew him by sight, and that recogni- 
tion was impossible. 


236 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


He was at the Capitol again early the next 
morning, and found the same scene being re-en- 
acted. Straggling groups of roughly-dressed farm- 
ers loitered timidly along the corridors, brisk clerks 
dashed to and fro, and streams of men poured in 
and out the doors of the legislative halls. Brad- 
ley entered unobserved, and took a seat at the rear 
of the hall on a sofa. He did not feel safe in tak- 
ing a seat. 

It was a solemn moment to the new legislator 
as he stood before the clerk, and, with lifted 
hand, listened to the oath of office read in the 
clerk’s sounding voice. He swore solemnly, with 
the help of God, to support the Constitution, and 
serve his people to the best of his ability ; and he 
meant it. It did not occur to him that this oath 
was a shuffling and indefinite obligation. The 
room seemed to grow a little dimmer as he stood 
there; the lofty ceiling, rich in its colors, grand 
and spacious to him, seemed to gather new maj- 
esty, just as his office as lawmaker gathered a vast 
and sacred significance. 

But as he came back to his seat, he heard a 
couple of old members laugh. “Cornin’ down to 
save their country. They’ll learn to save their 
bacon before their term is up. That young feller 
looks like one of those retrenchment and reform 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


237 


cusses, one of the fellers who never want to 
adjourn — down here for business, ye know.” 

Their laughter made Bradley turn hot with 
indignation. 

The selection of seats was the next great feat- . 
ure. The names of all the members were written 
upon slips of paper and shaken together in a box, 
while the members stood laughing and talking in 
the back part of the house. A blind-folded mes- 
senger boy selected the slips; and as the clerk 
read, in a sounding voice, the name on each slip, 
the representative so called went forward and 
selected his seat. 

Bradley’s name was called about the tenth, and 
he went forward timidly, and took a seat directly 
in the centre of the House. He did not care to 
seem anxious for a front seat. The Democratic 
members looked at him closely, and he stepped 
out of his obscurity as he went forward. 

A young man of about his own age, a stalwart 
fellow, reached about and shook hands. “My 
name is Nelson Floyd. I wanted to see you.” 

Floyd took the first opportunity to introduce 
him to two or three of the Democratic members, 
but he sat quietly in his seat during the whole 
session, and took very little interest in the 
^jr^akership contest, which seemed to go off very 


238 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


smoothly. He believed the speaker implicitly, 
when he stated the usual lie about having no 
pledges to redeem, and that he was free to choose 
his committee with regard only to superior fit- 
ness, etc., and was shocked when Floyd told him 
that a written contract had been drawn up and 
signed, before the legislature met, wherein the 
principal clerkships had been disposed of to party 
advantage. It was his second introduction to the 
hypocrisy of officialism. 

^ If he had been neglected before, he was not 
now ; all sorts of people came about him with 
axes to grind. 

*‘Is this Mr. Talcott Ah, yes ! I have heard 
of your splendid canvass — splendid canvass ! 
Now — ahem! — I’d like you to speak a good 
word for my girl, for the assistant clerkship of 
the Ways and Means”; while another wanted his 
son, Mr. John Smith, for page. 

He told them that he had nothing to say about 
those things. “I am counted with the Demo- 
crats, anyhow; I haven’t any influence.” 

They patted him on the shoulder, and winked 
slyly. Oh, we know all about that I But every 
word helps, you know.” 

Going out at the close of the session, he met 
Cargill. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


239 


“Well, legislator, how goes it?” 

“Oh, I don’t know; smoothly, I guess. I’ve 
kept pretty quiet.” 

“That’s right. The Republicans have every- 
thing in their hands this session.” 

“Hello, Cargill!” called a smooth, jovial voice. 

“Ah, Barney I Talcott, this is an excellent 
opportunity. This is Barney, the great railway 
lobbyist. Barney, here is a new victim for you — 
Talcott, of Rock.” 

“ Glad to see you, Mr. Talcott.” 

Bradley shook hands with moderate enthusi- 
asm, looking into Barney’s face with great inter- 
est. The lobbyist was large and portly and 
smiling. His moustache drooped over his mouth, 
and his chin had a jolly-looking hollow in it. His 
hazel eyes, once frank and honest, were a little 
clouded with drink. 

“Cargill is an infernal old cynic,” he exclaimed, 
“and he is corporation mad. Don’t size us up 
according to his estimate.” 

It did not seem possible that this man could be 
the great tool of the railway interest, and yet that 
was his reputation. 

Cargill moralized on the members, as they 
walked on : “ Barney’s on his rounds getting 
hold of the new members. He scents a corrupt- 


240 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


ible man as the buzzard does carrion. Every ses- 
sion young fellows like you come down here with 
high and beautiful ideas of office, and start in to 
reform everything, and end by becoming meat for 
Barney and his like. There is something destruct- 
ivedn the atmosphere of politics.” 

Bradley listened to Cargill incredulously. These 
things could not be true. These groups of jovial, 
candid-looking men could not be the moral wrecks 
they were represented. He had expected to see 
men who looked villainous in some way, with 
bloated faces — disreputable, beery fellows. He 
had not risen to the understanding that the suc- 
cessful villain is always plausible. 

When he left the Capitol and went down the 
steps with Cargill, he felt that he had fairly 
entered upon the work of his term. 

“Now, young man,” said Cargill, as they 
parted, “let me advise you. The fight of this 
session is going to be the people against the cor- 
porations. There are two positions and only two. 
You take your choice. If you side with the 
corporation, your success will be instantaneous. 
You can rig out, and board at the Richwood, and 
be dined out, and taken to see the town Saturday 
nights, and retire with a nice little boost and a 
record to apologize for when you go back to Rock 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


241 


River ; that is, you can go in for all that there is 
in it, or you can take your chances with the 
people.” 

“ I will take the chances with the people.” 

‘‘ Well, now, hold on ! Don’t deceive yourself. 
The people are a mob yet. They are fickle as 
the flames o’ hell. They don’t know what they 
do want, but in the end the man that leads them 
and stands by them is sure of success.” 

The daily walk down from the Capitol was very 
beautiful. As the sun sank low it struck through 
the smoke of the city, and flooded the rotunda of 
the building with a warm, red light, which lay 
along the floor in great streams of gold, and 
warmed each pillar till it glowed like burnished 
copper. At such moments the muddy streets, the 
poor hovels, the ugly bricks, lost to sight beneath 
the majesty and mystery of the sun -transfigured 
smoke and the purple deeps of the lower levels 
(out of which the searching, pitiless light had 
gone), became a sombre and engulfing flood of 
luminous darkness. 

<‘Here, here!” Cargill said one day, when 
Bradley called his attention to the view, “a man 
can swear and get drunk and be a politician ; but 
when he likes flowers or speaks of a sunset, his 
goose is cooked. It is political death.” 


242 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXL 

BRADLEY AND CARGILL CALL ON IDA. 

Bradley had come to like Cargill very much. 
He was very thoughtful in his haphazard way, 
but not at all like Radbourn. Bradley compared 
every man he met with Radbourn and Judge 
Brown, and every woman suffered comparison 
with Ida Wilbur. 

He went down to meet* Cargill on the night of 
the promised call. He found him seated on the 
small of his back, his hands in his pockets. His 
absurd little hat (that seemed to partake of his 
every mood) was rolled into a point in front, and 
pulled down aggressively over his eyes. He was 
particularly violent, and paid no attention what- 
ever to Bradley. 

“No, sir; I am not a prohibitionist. My posi- 
tion is just this : If we vote prohibition in Iowa, 
the government has no business to license men to 
sell contrary to our regulations.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


243 


That’s state’s rights ! ” burst in the other man 
who was trembling with rage and excitement. 

Cargill slowly rose, transfixing him with a glare. 
“Go way, now; I won’t waste any more time on 
you,” he said, walking off with Bradley. “Let 
me see, we were going to the club to-night.” He 
looked down at his boots. “Yes, they are shined; 
that puts a dress suit on me.” As he walked 
along, he referred to Miss Wilbur. “She is a 
great woman, but she is abnormal from my point 
of view.” 

“Why so.!^” inquired Bradley. 

“ Well, look at the life she leads. On the road 
constantly, living at hotels. A woman can’t hold 
herself up against such things.” 

“ It depends upon the woman,” was Bradley’s 
succinct protest against sweeping generalizations. 

It was crisp and clear, and the sound of their 
feet rang out in the still air as if they trod on 
glass at every step. They talked very little. 
Bradley wanted to tell Cargill that he had already 
met Miss Wilbur, but he could not see his way 
clear to make the explanation. Cargill was 
unwontedly silent. 

The Norwegian girl ushered them into a pretty 
little parlor, where a beautiful fire of coal was 
burning in an open grate. While they stood 


244 . 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


warming their stiffened hands at the cheerful 
blaze, Ida entered. 

“Mr. Cargill, this is an unexpected pleasure.” 

“ I wonder how sincere you are in that. This 
is my friend Mr. Talcott.” 

Ida moved toward Bradley with her hand cor- 
dially extended. “ I think we have met before,” 
she said. 

“I call him my friend,” said Cargill, “because 
he has not known me long enough to become my 
enemy.” 

“That is very good, Mr. Cargill. Sit down, 
won’t you.? Please give me your coats.” She 
moved about in that pleasant bustle of reception 
so natural to women. 

Cargill slid down into a chair in his disjointed 
fashion. “ We came to attend the intellectual 
sit-down.” 

“Why, that doesn’t meet to-night! It meets 
every other Friday, and this is the other Friday.” 

“Oh, is it.? So much the better; we will see 
you alone.” 

Ida turned gravely to Bradley. “Mr. Cargill is 
not often in this mood. I generally draw him off 
into a fight on Mr. Howell’s, Thackeray or Scott.” 

“She prefers me in armor,” Cargill explained, 
“and on horseback. My intellectual bowlegged- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


245 


ness, so to say, and my moral squint are less 
obtrusive at an altitude.” 

Ida laughed appreciatively. “Your extraor- 
dinary choice of figures would distinguish you 
among the symbolists of Paris,” she replied.” 

This all seemed very brilliant and droll to Brad- 
ley, and he sat with unwavering eyes fixed upon 
Ida, who appeared to him in a new light, more 
softly alluring than ever — that of the hostess. 
She was dressed in some loose, rich-colored robe, 
which had the effect of drapery. 

“When did you get back.**” Cargill inquired, a 
little more humanly. 

“Yesterday, and I am just in the midst of the 
luxury of feeling at home, with no journeys to 
make to-morrow. I have a friend I would like 
to introduce to you,” she said, rising and going 
out. She returned in a few moments with a tall 
young lady in street dress, whom she introduced 
as Miss Cassiday. 

In a short time Cargill had involved Miss Cas- 
siday in a discussion of the decline of literature, 
which left Ida free to talk with Bradley. It was 
the most beautiful evening in his life. He talked 
as never before. He told her of his reading, and 
of his plans. He told her of his election to the 
legislature. 


246 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


‘‘Ah, that is good!” she said; “then we have 
one more champion of women in our State 
House.” 

“Yes, I will do what I can,” he said. 

“ I will be here to hear you. I am one of the 
committee in charge of the bill.” 

The firelight fell upon her face, flushing its pal- 
lor into a beauty that exalted the young farmer 
out of his fear and reticence. They talked upon 
high things. He told her how he had studied the 
social question, since hearing her speak in Iowa 
City. He called to her mind great passages in 
the books she had sent him, and quoted para- 
graphs which touched upon the fundamental 
questions at issue. He spoke of his hopes of 
advancement. 

“I want to succeed,” he said, “in order that 
I may teach the new doctrine of rights. I want 
to carry into the party I have joined the real 
democracy. I believe a new era has come in our 
party.” 

“I am afraid not,” she said, looking at the fire. 
; “I begin to believe that we must wait till a new 
' party rises out of the needs of people, just as the 
, ; old Free-soil Party rose to free the slaves. Don’t 
\\deceive yourself about your party in this State. 

is after the offices, just the same as the party 



A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


247 


you have left. They juggle with the tariffs and 
the license question, because it helps them. They 
will drop any question and any man when they 
think they are going to lose by retaining him. 
They will drop you if you get too radical. I warn 
you!” she said, looking up at him and smiling 
with a touch of bitterness in her smile; am 
dangerous. My counsel does not keep men in 
office. I belong to the minority. I am very 
dangerous.” 

‘‘I’m not afraid,” he said, thrilling with the 
intensity of his own voice. ‘‘I will trust human 
reason. I’m not afraid of you — I mean you can’t 
harm me by giving me new thoughts, and that’s 
what you’ve done ever since that day I heard you 
first at the picnic. You’ve helped me to get 
where I am.” 

“I have.?” she asked, in surprise. His eyes 
fell before hers. “It will be strange if I have 
helped any one to political success.” 

Bradley was silent. How could he tell her 
what she had become to him .? How could he tell 
her that she was woven into the innermost mesh 
of his intellectual fibre. 

“You’ve taught me to think,” he said, at 
last. “You gave me my first ambition to do 
something.” 


248 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“I am very glad,” she replied, simply. “Some- 
times I get discouraged. I speak and people 
applaud, and I go away, and that seems to be 
all there is to it. I never hear a word after- 
wards ; but once in a while, some one comes to 
me or writes to me, as you have done, and that 
gives me courage to go on ; otherwise I’d think 
people came to hear me simply to be amused.” 

She was looking straight into the fire ; and the 
light, streaming up along her dress, transfigured 
her into something alien and unapproachable. 
The easy flex of her untrammelled waist was 
magnificent. She had the effect of a statue, 
draped and flooded with color. 

Cargill’s penetrating voice cut through that 
sacred pause like the rasp of a saw file. He had 
been listening to his companion till he was full of 
rebellion. He was a bad listener. 

“ But what is success ? Why, my dear young 
woman ” — 

“Don’t patronize us, please,” Ida interposed. 
“I speak for poor Miss Cassiday, because she’s 
too timid to rebel. Nothing angers me more 
than that tone. Call us comrades or friends, but 
don’t say <My dear young woman!”’ She was 
smiling, but she was more* than half in sober 
earnest. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


249 


Cargill bowed low, and proceeded with scowl- 
ing brow and eyes half-closed and fixed obliquely 
upon Ida. “ Dear comrades in life-battle, what is 
success You remember the two lords in Lilli- 
put who could leap the pack thread half its width 
higher.?” 

‘‘Don’t drag Swift into our discussion,” Ida 
cried. “Mr. Cargill’s a sort of American Swift,” 
turning to Bradley. “ Don’t let him spoil your 
splendid optimism. There is a kind of pessimism 
which is really optimism ; that is to say, peo- 
ple who believe the imperfect and unjust can 
be improved upon. They are called pessimists 
because they dare to tell the truth about the pres- 
ent ; but the pessimism of Mr. Cargill, I’m afraid, 
is the pessimism of personal failure.” 

There was a terrible truth in this, and it drove 
straight into Cargill’s heart. Bradley was pleased 
to see Ida dominate a man who was accustomed 
to master every one who came into his presence. 
There was a look on her face which meant bat- 
tle. She did not change her attitude of graceful 
repose, but her face grew stern and accusing. 
Cargill looked at her, wearing the same inscruta- 
ble expression of scowling attention ; but a slow 
flush, rising to his face, showed that he had been 
struck hard. 


250 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


There was a moment’s pause full of intense 
interest to Bradley. The combatants were deal- 
ing with each other oblivious of every one else. 

admire you, friend Cargill,” Ida went on, 
“but your attitude is not right. Your influence 
upon young people is not good. You are always 
crying out against things, but you never try to 
help. What are you doing to help things V 

“Crying out against them,” he replied, curtly. 

Ida dropped her glance. “Yes, that’s so; I’ll 
admit that it has that effect, or it would if you 
didn’t talk of the hopelessness of trying to do 
anything. Don’t feel alarmed,” she said, turning 
to the others, “ Mr. Cargill and I understand each 
other very well. We’ve known each other so long 
that we can afford to talk plain.” 

“This is the first time she ever let into me 
so directly,” Cargill explained. “ Understand we 
generally flght on literature, or music, or the 
woman question. This really is the first en- 
counter on my personal influence. I’m going 
home to stanch my wounds.” He rose, with a 
return to his usual manner. 

Ida made no effort to detain them. “Come 
and see me again, Mr. Talcott, and don’t let Mr. 
Cargill spoil you.” 

After leaving the house, the two men walked 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


251 


on a block in silence, facing the wind, their over- 
coats drawn up about their ears. 

‘‘There’s a woman I like,” Cargill said, when 
they turned a corner and were shielded from the 
bitter wind. “ She can forget her sex occasion- 
ally and become an intellect. Most women are 
morbid on their sex. They can’t seem to escape 
it, as a man does part of the time. They can’t 
rise, as this woman does, into the sexless region 
of affairs and of thought.” 

Bradley lacked the courage to ask him to speak 
lower, and he went on. “She’s had suitors 
enough and flattery enough to turn her into a 
simpering fashion-plate ; but you can not spoil 
brains. What the women want is not votes ; it’s 
brains, and less morbid emotions.” 

“ She’s a free woman } ” said Bradley. 

“Free ! Yes, they’d all be free if they had her 
brains.” 

“ I don’t know about that ; conditions might 
still” — 

“They’d make their own conditions.” 

“That’s true. It all comes back to a question 
of human thinking, doesn’t it 

This seemed a good point to leave off the dis- 
cussion, and they walked on mainly in silence, 
though two or three times during the walk Cargill 


252 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


broke out in admiration. “ I never saw a woman 
grow as that woman has. That’s the kind of a 
woman a man would never get tired of. I’ve 
never married,” he went on, with a sort of con- 
fession, ‘‘because I knew perfectly well I’d get 
sick of my choice, but” — 

He did not finish — it was hardly necessary; 
perhaps he felt he had gone too far. They said 
good-night at the door of the Richwood, and 
Bradley went on up the avenue, his brain whirling 
with his new ideas and emotions. 

Ida had rushed away again into the far dis- 
tance. It was utter foolishness to think she 
could care for him. She was surrounded with 
brilliant and wealthy men, while he was a poor 
young lawyer in a little country town. He 
looked back upon the picture of himself sitting 
by her side, there in the light of the fire, with 
deepening bewilderment. He remembered the 
strange look upon her face as she rebuked Car- 
gill. He wondered if she did not care for him. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


253 


XXII. 


THE JUDGE PLANS A NEW CAMPAIGN. 

The first three or four weeks of legislative life 
sickened and depressed Bradley. He learned in 
that time, not only to despise, but to loath some 
of the legislators. The stench of corruption got 
into his nostrils, and jovial vice passed before his 
eyes. The duplicity, the monumental hypocrisy, 
of some of the leaders of legislation made him 
despair of humankind and to doubt the stability 
of the republic. 

He was naturally a pure-minded, simple-hearted 
man, and when one of the leaders of the moral 
party of his State was dragged out of a low resort, 
drunk and disorderly, in company with a leader of 
the Senate, his heart failed him ready 



to resign and go home. 


Trades among the committees came obscurely 
to his ears ; hints of jobs, getting each day more 
definite, reached him. Railway lobbyists swarmed 


254 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


about and began to lay their cajoling, persuasive 
hands upon members ; and he could not laugh 
when the newspaper said, for a joke, that the 
absent-minded speaker called the House to order 
one morning by saying : “Agents of the K, C. 
& Q. will please be in order.” It seemed too 
near the simple fact to be funny. The School 
Book Lobby, the University Lobby, the Armour 
Lobby, each had its turn with him, through its 
smooth, convincing agent. 

He reached his lowest deep one night after a 
conversation with Floyd Smith, an ex-clerk, and a 
couple of young fellows who called upon him at 
his room. Floyd noticed his gloomy face, and 
asked what the trouble was. He told them 
frankly that he was disgusted. 

“Oh, you’ll get used to it!” the ex-clerk said. 
“When I first went into the House, I believed in 
honesty and sincerity, like yourself ; but I came 
out of my term of office knowing the whole gang 
to be thieves. My experience taught me that 
legislators in America think it’s a Christian virtue 
to break into the government treasury.” 

The others broke out laughing, believing him 
to be joking ; but there was a ferocious look on 
his face, and Bradley felt that he might be mis^ 
taken, but he was not joking. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


255 


“They stole stationery, spittoons, waste bask- 
ets, by God ! They stole everything that was 
loose, and at the end of the term, they seemed to 
be looking around unsatisfied, and I told ’em there 
was just one thing left — the gold leaf on the 
dome.” 

The others roared with laughter, and Bradley 
was forced to join in. But the face of the ex-clerk 
did not Ibse its dark intensity. 

“Take salary grabbing. Why! they wanted 
me to certify to their demands for Sunday pay 
for themselves and their clerks, and I refused, 
and they were wild. I’m not an angel nor a 
Christian man, but I won’t sign my name to a 
lie, and blamed if they didn’t pass the order with- 
out my signature! Yes, sir; it’s there on the 
record. 

“Take nepotism. The members bring their 
wives and daughters down here, put them in as 
pages and clerks, or divide the proceeds when 
they have no relatives. Every device, every 
imaginable chicanery, every possible scheme to 
break into the State money box, is legitimate in 
their eyes, and worthy of being patented. Public 
money is fair game; and yet,” he said, with a 
change of manner, “we have the fairest, purest 
and most honorable legislators, take it as a whole, 


256 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


that there is in the United States, because our 
State is rural, and we’re comparatively free from 
liquor. Our legislature is a Sunday School, com- 
pared to the leprous rascals that swarm about the 
Capitol at Albany or Springfield.” 

“ What is the cure } ” asked Bradley, whose 
mind had been busy with the problem. 

“ God Almighty ! there is no cure, except the 
abolition of government. Government mCans that 
kind of thing. Look at it ! Here we enthrone 
the hungry, vicious, uneducated mob of incapa- 
bles, and then wonder why they steal, and gorge 
and riot like satyrs. The wonder is they don’t 
scrape the paint off the walls.” 

“ Oh, you go too far ; a legislator wouldn’t 
steal a spittoon.” 

“No, but the fellow he recommends for clerk- 
ship does.” 

“ My idea is that there are very few men who 
take money.” 

“I admit that, but they’ll all trade their job 
for another job. Honesty is impossible. The 
Angel Gabriel would become a boodler under 
our system of government. The cure is to abol- 
ish government.” 

This conclusion, impotent to Bradley, was prac- 
tically all the savage critic had to offer. Either 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


257 


go back to despotism or go ahead to no govern- 
ment at all. 

After they went out, Bradley sat down and 
wrote a letter to Judge Brown, embodying the 
main part of this conversation : “ It’s enough to 
make a man curse his country and his God to see 
how things run,” he said, at the end of writing out 
the ex-clerk’s terrible indictment. ‘‘I feel that 
he is right. I’m ready to resign, and go home, 
and never go into politics again. The whole 
thing is rotten to the bottom.” 

But as the weeks wore on, he found that the 
indictment was only true of a certain minority, 
but it was terribly true of them ; but down under 
the half-dozen corruptible agents, under the roar 
of their voices, there were many others speaking 
for truth and purity. The obscure mass meant to 
be just and honest. They were good fathers and 
brothers, and yet they were forced to bear the 
odium that fell on the whole legislature whenever 
the miscreant minority rolled in the mire and 
walked the public streets. 

There was one count, however, that remained 
good against nearly all of the legislators : they 
seemed to lack conscience as regards public 
money. Bradley remembered that this dishonesty 
extended down to the matter of working on the 


258 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


roads in the country. He remembered that every 
man esteemed it a virtue to be lazy, and to do as 


little for a day’s pay as possible, because it “came 


i out of the town.” He was forced to admit that 
\ this was the most characteristic American crime. 



rob the commonwealth was a joke. 


iTe ended by philosophizing upon it with the 
Judge, who came down in late February to attend 
the session during the great railway fight. 

The Judge put his heels on the window sill, and 
folded his arms over the problem. 

“Well, now, this thing must be looked at from 
another standpoint. The power of redress is 
with the voter. If the voter is a boodler, he 
will countenance boodling. Here is the mission 
of our party,” he said, with the zeal of an old- 
fashioned Democrat, “to come in here and edu- 
cate the common man to be an honest man. We 
have got a duty to perform. Now, we mustn’t 
talk of resigning or going out of politics. We’ve 
got to stay right in the lump, and help leaven it. 
It will only make things worse if we leave it.” 
The Judge had grown into the habit of speaking 
of Bradley as if he were a partner. 

Bradley, going about with him on the street, 
suddenly discovered that the Judge’s hat was just 
a shade too wide in the brim, and his coat a lit- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


259 


tie bit frayed around the button-holes. He had 
never noticed before that the Judge was a little 
old-fashioned in his manners. No thought of 
being ashamed of him came into his mind, but it 
gave him a curious sensation when they entered a 
car together for the first time, and he discovered 
that the Judge was a type. 

When Bradley made his great speech on the 
railroad question, arraigning monopoly, the Judge 
had a special arrangement with a stenographer. 
He was going to have that speech in pamphlet 
form to distribute, if it took a leg. He was 
already planning a congressional campaign. 

Ida sat in the balcony on the day he spoke for 
woman’s suffrage, and he could not resist the 
temptation of looking up there as he spoke. 
Everything combined to give great effect to his 
speech. It was late in the afternoon and the 
western sun thrust bars of light across the dim 
chamber which the fresh young voice of the 
speaker had hushed into silence. Ida had sent a 
bunch of flowers to his desk and upon that bou- 
quet the intrusive sun-ray fell, like something 
wild that loved the rose, but as the speaker went 
on it clambered up his stalwart side and rested at 
last upon his head as though to crown him with 
victory. 


260 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


But defeat came as usual. The legislators saw 
nothing in the sun-ray except a result of negli- 
gence on the part of the door-keeper. They all 
cheered the speech, but a majority tabled the 
matter as usual. The galleries cheered and the 
women swarmed about the young champion, Ida 
among them. Her hand-shake and smile was his 
greatest reward. 

“Come and see me,” she said. “I want to 
thank you.” 

The Judge was immensely proud of him. “A 
great speech. Brad ; if I wasn’t so old-fashioned 
and set — you’d have contented me. In private 
I admit all you say, but it aint policy for me to 
advocate it just now.” 

“ Policy ! I’m sick of policy ! ” cried Bradley. 
“Let’s try being right awhile.” 

The Judge changed the subject. He told the 
members at the boarding-house that it wouldn’t 
hurt Bradley’s chances. “People won’t down a 
man on that point any more.” 

“ Perhaps not in your county, but I don’t want 
to experiment down in my county,” said Major 
Root, of Macintosh. 

“I don’t believe the people of Iowa will 
down any man for stating what he believes is 
right.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


261 


“Don’t bet too high on that,” said the Major in 
final reply. 

The Judge dined with Bradley at the dining- 
room in the little cottage, and it gave Bradley 
great satisfaction to see that he used his fork 
more gracefully than the Supreme judge, who sat 
beside him, and better than the senator, who sat 
opposite. They had a most delightful time in 
talking over old legal friends, and the Judge was 
beaming as he came to pudding. He assured 
them all that the Honorable Talcott would be 
heard on the floor of Congress. 

“We’re the winning party now,” he said. 
“We’re the party of the future.” 

The others laughed good naturedly. “ Don’t be 
too certain of that.” They all rose. “You sur- 
prised us sleeping on our arms,” the general said, 
“but we’re awake now, and we’ve got pickets out.” 

The Judge enjoyed his visit very much, and 
only once did he present himself to Bradley with 
a suspicious heaviness in his speech. He had 
reformed entirely since he had adopted a son, he 
explained to his old cronies. 

On the day when the Judge was to return, as 
they walked down to the train together, he said, 
“ Well, Brad, we’ll go right into the congressional 
campaign.” 


262 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“I don’t believe we’d better do that, Judge.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“Well, I could not be elected — that’s one 
thing.” 

The Judge allowed an impressive silence to 
intervene. 

“ Why not ? I tell you, young man, they’re 
on the run. We can put you through. You’ve 
made a strong impression down here.” 

“I don’t believe I want to be put through. 
I’m sick of it. I don’t believe I’m a politician. 
I’m sick all through with the whole cussed busi- 
ness. I never’d be here only for you, pulling 
wires. I can’t pull wires.” 

“You needn’t pull wires. I’ll do that. You 
talk, and that’s what put you here, and it’ll put 
you in Congress.” 

Bradley was in a bad mood. 

“What’s the good of my going there.? I can’t 
do anything. I’ve done nothing here.” 

“Yes, y’ have. You’ve been right on the rail- 
road question, on the oleo question, and the bank 
question. It’s going to count. That speech of 
yours, yesterday, I’m going to send broadcast in 
Rock County. The district convention will meet 
in June early. Foster will pave the way for your 
nomination, by saying Rock County should have 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


263 


a congressman. We’ll go into the convention 
with a clear two-thirds majority, and then declare 
your nomination unanimous. You see, your youth 
will be in your favor. Your election will follow, 
sure. The only fight will be in the convention.” 

“Looks like spring, to-day,” Bradley said. It 
was his way of closing an argument. 

“Well, good-by. You’ll find the whole pot 
boiling when you come home,” the Judge said, as 
the train started. 

As Bradley looked on these suggestive scenes, 
the earth-longing got hold upon him again. It 
was almost seed time, with its warm, mellow soil, 
sweeping flights of prairie pigeons, its innu- 
merable swarms of tiny clamorous sparrows, its 
whistling plovers, and its passing wild fowl. The 
thought came to him there, for the first time, that 
nature was not malignant nor hard ; that life on a 
farm might be the most beautiful and joyous life 
in the world. The meaning of Ida’s words at last 
took definite and individual shape in his mind. 
He had assimilated them now. 

Bradley gave himself up to the Judge’s plans. 
He went home in April with eagerness and with 
reluctance. He was eager to escape the smoke 
of the city and reluctant to leave behind him all 


264 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


chance to see Ida. This feeling of hungry disap- 
pointment dominated him during his day’s ride. 
He had seen her but twice during his stay in Des 
Moines, and now — when would he see her again? 

This terrible depression and sharp pain wore 
away a little by the time he reached home, and 
the active campaign which followed helped him to 
bear it. He still wrote to her, and she replied 
without either encouragement and without expli- 
cit displeasure. The campaign was really the 
Judge’s fight. Bradley was his field officer. 
Victory in the convention only foreshadowed the 
sweeping victory in October. He resigned as 
legislator, to become a congressman. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


265 



XXIII. 

JN TO WASHINGTON. 

In the west (as in rural America anywhere), 
the three types of great men in the peoples’ eyes 
are the soldier, the politician and the minister. 
The whole people appear to revere the great 
soldier, the men admire the successful politician, 
and the women bow down before the noted 
preacher. 

These classes of hero-worshipers melt into each 
other, of course, but broadly they may be said to 
separately exist. In colonial days the minister 
came first, the soldier second, the politician last. 
Since the revolution the soldier has been the first 
figure in the triumvirate, and in these later times 
the politician and his organ of voice the news- 
paper have placed the preacher last. 

And there is something wholesome in such an 
atmosphere, the atmosphere of the West, at least 


266 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


by contrast. The worship of political success, 
low as it may seem, is less deplorable than the 
worship of wealth, which is already weakening 
the hold of the middle-class Eastern man upon 
the American idea. In the West mere wealth 
does not carry assurance of respect, much less 
can it demand subservience. 

Bradley never dreamed of getting rich, but 
under Radbourn and the Judge he had developed 
a growing love for the orator’s dominion. He 
hungered to lead men. Notwithstanding his fits 
of disgust and bitterness he loved to be a part of 
the political life of his time. It had a powerful 
fascination for him. The deference which his old 
friends and neighbors paid him as things due a 
rising young man, pleased him. 

He looked now to Washington, and it fired his 
imagination to think of sitting in the hall where 
the mighty legislators of generations now dead 
had voiced their epoch-marking thoughts. It 
amazed the Judge to see how the wings of his 
young eagle expanded. The transformation from 
a farmer’s hired man to a national representative 
appealed to him as characteristically American, 
and he urged Bradley to do his best. 

The election which the young orator expected 
to be another moment of great interest really 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


267 


came as a matter-of-fact ending to a long and tri- 
umphant canvass. He had held victory in his 
hand until she was tamed. The election sim- 
ply confirmed the universal prophecy. He was 
elected, and while the Democrats went wild with 
joy, Bradley slept quietly in his bed at home — 
while the brass band played itself quiescent under 
his window. 

Now he fixed his eyes on Washington as an 
actuality. It was a long time before his term 
began, and at the advice of Judge Brown and 
others he packed his trunk in January to go on 
and look around a little in the usual way of new 
members. He went alone, the Judge couldn’t 
spare the time. 

That ride from Chicago to Washington was ,au 
epic to him. It was his next great departure, his 
entrance into another widening circle of thinking. 
He had never seen a mountain before; and the 
wild, plunging ride among the Alleghany Mount- 
ains was magnificent. He sat for hours at a time 
looking out of the window, while the train, drawn 
by its two tremendous engines, crawled toward 
the summit. He saw the river drop deeper and 
deeper, and get whiter and wilder ; and then 
came the wooded level of the summit, and then 
began the descent. 


2G8 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


While the reeling train alternately flung him to 
the window and against the seat, he gazed out at 
the wheeling peaks, the snow-laden pines, and the 
mighty gorges, through which the icy river ran, 
green as grass in its quiet eddies. On every side 
were wild hillsides meshed with fallen trees, and 
each new vista contained its distant peak. It 
was the realization of his imagination of the 
Alleghanies. 

As the train swooped round its curves, drop- 
ping lower and lower, the valley broadened out, 
and the great mountains moved away into ampler 
distances. The river ran in a wide and sinuous 
band to the east and the south. He realized it to 
be the Potomac, whose very name is history. He 
began to look ahead to seeing Harper’s Ferry, 
and in the nearing distance was Washington ! 

He had the Western man’s intensity of feeling 
for Washington. To him it was the centre of 
American life, because he supposed the laws were 
made there. The Western man knows Boston as 
the centre of art, which he affects to despise, and 
New York appeals to him as the home of the 
millionaire, of the money-lender; but in Wash- 
ington he recognizes the great nerve centre of 
national life. It is the political ganglion of the 
body politic. It appeals to the romantic in him 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


269 


as well. It is historical ; it is the city that makes 
history. 

Slowly the night fell. After leaving Harper’s 
Ferry the outside world vanished, and when the 
brakeman called “Washington,” it was nearly 
eight o’clock of a damp, chilly night. He was so 
eager to see the Capitol, which the kindly fat 
man behind him had assured him was but a few 
steps away from the station, that he took his 
valise in his hand, and started directly for the 
dome, which a darkey with a push-cart, pointed 
out to him with oppressive courtesy. 

There was an all-pervasive, impalpable, blue- 
gray mist in the air, cold and translucent ; and 
when he came to the foot of the grounds, and 
faced the western front of the Capitol building, 
he drew a deep breath of delight. It thrilled 
him. There it loomed in the misty, winter night, 
the mightiest building on the continent, blue- 
white, sharply outlined, massive as a mountain, 
yet seemingly as light as a winter cloud. Weigh- 
ing myriads of tons, it seemed quite as insubstan- 
tial as the mist which transfigured it. Against 
the cold-white of its marble, and out of the gray- 
white enveloping mist, bloomed the warm light of 
lamps, like vast lilies with hearts of fire and halos 
of faint light. 


270 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


He Stood for a long time looking upon it, mus^ 
ing upon its historic associations. Around him 
he heard the grinding wheels, the click of the 
horses’ hoofs upon the asphalt pavement, and 
heard the shouts of drivers. Somewhere near 
him water was falling with a musical sound in a 
subterranean sluiceway. At last he came to him- 
self with a start, and found his arm aching with 
the fatigue of his heavy valise. He struck off 
down the avenue. It seemed to swarm with col- 
ored people. They were selling papers, calling 
with musical, bell-like voices — 

Evenin’ Sty-ah ! ” “ Evenin’ Sty-ah ! ” 

Horse cars tinkled along, and a peculiar form 
of elongated ’bus, with the word “ Carette ” painted 
upon it, rolled along noiselessly over the asphalt 
pavement. An old man in business dress, with 
rather aristocratic side-whiskers, came toward 
him, walking briskly through the crowd, an open 
hand-bag swung around his neck ; and as he 
walked he chanted a peculiar cry — 

“Doc-tor Ferguson’s, selly-brated, double X, 
Philadelphia cough-drops, for coughs and colds, 
sore throat or hoarseness ; five cents a package.” 

Innumerable signs invited him to “ meals at i 5 
and 25 cts.” “Rolls and French drip coffee, 10 
cts.” “Oysters in every style,” etc. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


271 


The oyster saloons were, in general, very 
attractive to him, as a Western man, but specific- 
ally he did not like the looks of the places in 
which they were served. He came at last to a 
place which seemed clean and free from a bar, 
and ventured to call for a twenty-five cent stew. 

After eating this, he again took his way to the 
street, and walked along, looking for a moderate- 
priced hotel. He did not think of going to a 
hotel that charged more than seventy-five cents 
for a room. He came at length to quite a 
decent-looking place, which advertised rooms for 
fifty cents and upwards. He registered under 
the clerk’s calm misprision, and the brown and 
wonderfully freckled colored boy showed him to 
his room. 

It was all quite familiar to him — this hotel to 
which a man of moderate means is forced to go 
in the city. The dingy walls and threadbare 
carpet got geometrically shabbier at each succeed- 
ing flight of stairs, until at length the boy ushered 
him into a little room at the head of the stairway. 
It was unwarmed and had no lock on the door ; 
but the bed was clean, and, as he soon found, 
very comfortable. 


272 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXIV. 

RADBOURN SHOWS BRADLEY ABOUT THE CAPITAL. 

He woke in the morning from his dreamless 
sleep with that peculiar familiar sensation of not 
knowing where he had lain down the night before. 
There was something boyish in the soundness of 
his sleep. He heard the newsboys calling out- 
side, although it was apparently the early dawn. 
Their voices made him think of Des Moines, for 
the reason that Des Moines was the only city in 
which he had ever heard the newsboys cry. He 
sprang from his bed at the thought of Radbourn. 
He would hunt him up at once! He was sur- 
prised to find that it had snowed during the night, 
and everywhere the darkies were cleaning the 
walks. 

Walking thus a perfect stranger in what seemed 
to him a great city he did not feel at all like a 
rising young man. In fact the farther he got 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


273 


from Rock River the smaller his importance grew, 
for he had the imagination that comprehends rel- 
ative values. 

On the street he passed a window where a big 
negro was cooking griddle-cakes, dressed in a 
snowy apron and a paper cap. He looked so 
clean and wholesome that Bradley decided upon 
getting his breakfast there, and going in, took 
his seat at one of the little tables. A colored boy 
came up briskly. 

“ I’d like some of those cakes,” said Bradley, to 
whom all this was very new. 

Brown the wheats ! ” yelled the boy, and added 
in a low voice, “Buckwheat or batter.?” 

“Buckwheat, I guess.” 

“Make it bucks!” the boy yelled, by the way 
of correction, and asked again in a low voice, 
“ Coffee .? ” 

“ If you please.” 

“One up light.” 

While Bradley was eating his cakes, which were 
excellent, others came in, and the waiters dashed 
to and fro, shouting their weird orders. 

“ Ham and, two up coff, a pair, boot-leg, white 
wings.” 

Bradley had a curiosity to see what this order 
would bring forth, and, watching carefully, found 


274 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


that it secured ham and eggs, two cups of coffee, 
a beefsteak, and an omelet. He was deeply inter- 
ested in the discovery. 

He recognized the most of the men around him 
as Western or Southern types. Many of them 
had chin whiskers and wore soft crush hats. The 
negroes interested and fascinated him : they were 
so grimly ugly of face, and yet apparently so good 
natured and light hearted. 

On the street again he saw the same types of 
men. He wondered if they were not his col- 
leagues. As for them, they probably took him for 
a Boston or New York man, with his full brown 
beard and clear-skinned face. 

The negroes attracted his eyes constantly. 
They drifted along the street apparently aimlessly, 
many of them. Their faces were mainly laugh- 
ing, but in a meaningless way, as if it were a 
habit. He soon found that they were swift to 
struggle for a chance to work. They asked to 
carry his valise, to black his boots ; the newsboys 
ran by his side, in their eagerness to sell. 

As he went along, he noticed the very large 
number of Rooms to Let,” and the equally large 
number of signs of “ Meals, Fifteen and Twenty- 
five Cents.” Evidently there would be no trouble 
in finding a place to board. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


275 


As he entered Radbourn’s office, he saw 4 
young lady seated at a desk, manipulating a type- 
writer. She had the ends of a forked rubber tube 
hung in her ears, and did not see Bradley. He 
observed that the tube connected with a sewing- 
machine-like table and a swiftly revolving little 
cylinder, which he recognized as a phonograph. 
At the window sat Radbourn, talking in a meas- 
ured, monotonous voice into the mouthpiece of a 
large flexible tube, which connected with another 
phonograph. His back was toward Bradley, and 
he stood for some time looking at the curious 
scene and listening to Radbourn’s talk. 

Congress brings to Washington a fulness of 
life which no one can understand who has not 
spent the summer here,” Radbourn went on, in a 
slow, measured voice, his lips close to the bell- 
like opening of the tube. It had a ludicrous 
effect upon Bradley — like a person talking to 
himself. 

*‘The city may be said to die, when Congress 
adjourns. Its life is political, and when its polit- 
ical motor ceases to move the city lies sprawled 
out like a dead thing. Its streets are painfully 
quiet. Its street cars shuttle to and fro under 
the burning sun, and its teamsters loaf about the 
corners drowsily. The store-keepers keep shop. 


276 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


of course, but they open lazily of a morning and 
close early at night. The whole city yawns and 
rests and longs for the coming of the autumn and 
Congress. 

“ It is amusing and amazing to see it begin to 
wake up at the beginning of the session. Then 
begins the scramble of the hotels and boarding- 
houses to secure members of Congress. Then 
begins ” — 

The girl suddenly saw Bradley standing there, 
and called out, “ Some one to see you, Mr. 
Radbourn ! ” 

Radbourn stopped the cylinder, and turned. 

“Ah, how do you do,” he said, as if greeting a 
stranger. 

Bradley smiled in reply, knowing that Rad- 
bourn did not recognize him. “I’m very well. I 
don’t suppose you remember me, but I’m Brad 
Talcott.” 

Radbourn rose with great cordiality. “Well, 
well. I’m glad to see you,” he said, his sombre 
face relaxing in a smile, as he seized Bradley by 
the hand. “Sit down, sit down. I’m glad to see 
an old class-mate.” 

“Don’t let me interrupt your work. I was 
interested in hearing you talk into that thing 
there.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


211 


“Oh, yes, I was just getting off my syndicate 
letter for this week. Sit down and talk ; you 
don’t interrupt me at all. Now tell me all about 
yourself. Of course I have heard of your suc- 
cess, State Legislature and Congress and all that, 
but I would like to have you tell me all about it.” 

“There aint very much to tell. I had very lit- 
tle to do with it,” said Bradley. 

They took seats near the window, looking out 
upon the square, and upon the vast, squat, Egyp- 
tian, tomb-like structure, that rose out of the 
centre of the smooth, snow-covered plat, across 
which the sun streamed with vivid white radiance. 

There was a little pause after they sat down. 
Radbourn leaned his head on his arm, and studied 
Bradley earnestly. He seemed older and more 
bitter than Bradley expected to see him. He 
asked of the old friends in a slow way, as if one 
name called up another in a slowly moving chain 
of association. They talked on for an hour thus, 
sitting in the same position. . At last Radbourn 
said — 

“How far I’ve got from all those scenes and 
people ! and yet the memory of that little old 
town and its people has a powerful fascination. 
I never’ll go back, of course. To tell the truth, I 
am afraid to go back; it would drive me crazy. 


278 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


I am a city man naturally. I am gregarious. I 
like to be in the centre of things. It’ll get hold 
of you, too. This city is full of ruined young 
men and women, who came here from the slow- 
moving life of inland towns and -villages, and, 
after two or three years of a richer life, find it 
impossible to go back ; and here they are, strug- 
gling along on forty-five cents a day at hash- 
houses, living in hall bedrooms, preferring to pick 
up such a living, at all kinds of jobs, than to go 
back home. I’d do it myself, if I were” — 

He broke off suddenly, and looked at Bradley 
in a keen, steady way. ‘‘And so your’ re a con- 
gressman, Talcott.^ Well, I’m glad of your suc- 
cess, because it shows a man can succeed on the 
right lines — in a measure, at least.” 

“Well, I’ve tried to live up to most of your 
principles,” smiled Bradley. “I’ve read all the 
things you’ve sent me.” 

“Well, you’re the wildest and most dangerous 
lunatic that ever got into Congress,” Radbourn 
said, gravely. “Do you expect to talk any of 
that stuff on the floor.?” 

“Well, I — I hoped to be able to say some- 
thing before the session closes.” 

“If you do, it will be a miracle. The House is 
under the rule of a Republican Czar, and men 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


279 


with your ideas or any ideas are to be shut out 
remorselessly. Let me tell you something right 
here; it will save time and worry: You want to 
know the Speaker, cultivate him. He’s the real 
power. That’s the reason the speakership be- 
comes such a terrible struggle. It decides th 
most tremendous question. In his hand is the 
appointing of committees, which should be chosen 
by the legislators themselves. The power of 
these committees is unlimited, you’ll find. They 
can smother bills of the utmost importance. The- 
oretically they are the servants of the House. 
Actually they are its autocrats.” 

“I didn’t realize that.” 

“I don’t suppose it is realized by the people. 
This appointing of the committee is supposed to 
save time, and yet the speakership contest con- 
sumes weeks, sometimes months. It will grow in 
ferocity.” 

Can’t something be done } ” 

“Try and see,” he said rising. “Well, suppose 
we got out and walk about a little. I infer you’re 
on to see the town. Where are you stopping.?” 

Bradley named the hotel with a little reluctance. 
He knew how cheap it was; and since he had dis- 
covered that congressmen were at a premium in 
boarding-houses, he saw that he must get more 


280 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


sumptuous quarters than he had hitherto occupied. 
They went out into the open air together. The 
sun was very brilliant and warm. The eaves were 
running briskly. The sky was gentle, beautiful, 
and spring-like. The fact that he was in Wash- 
ington came upon Bradley again, as he saw the 
soaring dome of the capitol at the head of the 
avenue. 

“What you want to do is to get on good social 
terms with the so-called leaders,” Radbourn was 
saying. “ Recognition goes by favor on the floor 
of the House. We might go up to the capitol 
and look about,” Radbourn suggested. 

They walked up the steps leading to the west 
front of the building. Everywhere the untrodden 
snow lay white and level. 

“This is the finest part of the whole thing,” 
Radbourn remarked, as they reached the level of 
esplanade. “ It has more beauty and simple 
majesty than the main building itself, or any 
structure in the city.” 

It was magnificent. Bradley turned and looked 
at it right and left with admiring eyes. It 
gleamed with snow, and all about was the sound 
of dripping water, and in the distance the roll of 
wheels and click of hoofs. The esplanade was 
a broad walk extending the entire width of the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


281 


building, and conforming to it. It was bottomed 
with marble squares, and bordered with a splen- 
did wall, breast-high on one side, and by the 
final terrace running to the basement wall on the 
other. Here and there along the wall gigantic 
brazen pots sat, filled with evergreens, whose 
color seemed to have gradually dropped down and 
entered into the marble beneath them. The 
bronze had stained with rich, dull green each ped- 
estal and irregular sections of the marble wall 
itself. 

Below them the city was outspread. Radbourn 
pointed out the Pension Office, the White House, 
the Treasury, and other principal buildings with 
a searching word upon their architecture. The 
monument, he evidently considered, required no 
comment. 

As they entered the dome, they passed a group 
of men whose brisk, bluff talk and peculiar swag- 
ger indicated their character — legislators from 
small country towns. 

‘^Sorne of your colleagues," Radbourn said, 
indicating them with his thumb. As they paused 
a moment in the centre of the dome, one of the 
group, a handsome fellow with a waxed mustache 
and hard, black eyes, gave a stretching gesture, 
and said, “ Fm in the world now." 


282 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


His words thrilled Bradley to the heart. He 
was in the world now. Des Moines and its cap^ 
itol were dwarfed and overshadowed by this great 
national city, to which all roads ran like veins to 
a mighty heart. He lifted his shoulders in a 
deep breath. It was glorious to be a congress- 
man, but still more glorious to be a citizen of the 
world. 

They passed through the corridors in upon the 
house floor, which swarmed with legislators, lob- 
byists, pages, newspaper men and visitors. Rad- 
bourn led the way down to the open space before 
the speaker’s desk, and together they turned and 
swept the semi-circular rows of seats. 

Everywhere the visitor abounds,” said Rad- 
bourn. “Western and Southern men predomi- 
nate. It’s surprising what deep interest the 
negro takes in legislation,” he went on, lifting 
his eyes to the gallery, which was black with their 
intent and solemn faces. “See this old fellow 
with his hat off as if he were in the midst of a 
temple,” he said, nodding at a group before the 
speaker’s desk. 

Bradley looked at the poor, bent, meek, old 
man with a thrill of pity. He observed that 
many of the negroes were splashed with orange- 
colored clay. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


283 


Members began to take their seats and to call 
pages by clapping their hands. The cloak-rooms 
and barber-shop resounded with laughter. News- 
paper men sauntered by, addressing Radbourn 
and asking for news. And here and there others, 
like Radbourn, were acting as guides to groups of 
visitors. 

In the midst of the growing tumult a one- 
armed man entered the speaker’s desk and called 
out in snappy tenor — 

‘‘ Gentlemen, I am requested by the door- 
keeper to ask all persons not entitled to the floor 
to please retire.” 

Bradley started, but Radbourn said, No hurry, 
you have fifteen minutes yet. As a member- 
elect you have the courtesy of the floor anyway. 
Do you want to meet anybody "t ” 

“No, I guess not. I just want to look on for 
to-day.” 

“Well, we’ll go up in the gallery.” 

Looking down upon the floor and its increas- 
ing swarm of individuals, Bradley got a complete 
sense of its vastness and its complexity and noise. 

“It makes the Iowa legislature seem like a 
school-room,” he said to Radbourn. 

At precisely noon the gavel fell with a single 
sharp stroke, and the speaker called persuasively. 


284 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ The house will please be in order.” The mem- 
bers rose and stood reluctantly, some of them 
sharpening their pencils, others reading while the 
chaplin prayed sonorously with many oratorical 
cadences, taking in all the departments of govern- 
ment in the swing of his generous benediction. 

Instantly at the word “Amen,” like the pop- 
ping of a cork, the tumult burst out again. 
Hands clapped, laughter flared out, desks were 
slammed, papers were rattled, feet pounded, and 
the brazen monotonous clanging voice of the clerk 
sounded above it all like some new steam calliope 
whose sounds were words. 

“You see how much prayer means here,” said 
Radbourn. 

A good deal of the business which followed was 
similar in character to the proceedings at Des 
Moines. Resolutions were passed with two or 
three aye votes and no noes at all, while the rest 
of the members looked over the Record, read the 
morning papers, or wrote on busily. The speaker 
declared each motion carried with glib voice. 

At last a special order brought up an unfin- 
ished debate upon some matter, and the five min- 
ute rule was enforced. 

“You’re in luck,” said Radbourn. “The whole 
procession is going to pass before you.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


285 


As the debate went on he pointed out the great 
men whose names suggested history to Bradley 
and whose actual presence amazed him. There 
was Amos B. Tripp, whom Radbourn said re- 
sembled <‘a Chinese god” — immense, featureless, 
bald, with a pout on his face like an enormous 
baby. The “watch dog of the house,” Major 
Hendricks, was tall, thin, with the voice and man- 
ner of an old woman. His eyes were invisible, 
and his chin-beard wagged up and down as he 
shouted in high tenor his inevitable objection. 

An old man with abundant hair, blue-white 
under the perpendicular light, arose at the back 
part of the room, making a fine picture outlined 
against the deep red screen. His manner was 
courtly, his ruddy face pleasing, his voice musical 
and impassioned. 

“He’s the dress parade orator of the house,” 
observed Radbourn. 

“I like him,” said Bradley, leaning forward to 
absorb the speaker’s torrent of impassioned utter- 
ance. When he sat down the members applauded. 

Most of the orators conformed to types familiar 
to Bradley. There was the legal type, monoto- 
nously emphatic, with extended forefinger, which 
pointed, threatened and delineated. His speak- 
ing wore on the ear like a saw-filing. Then there 


286 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


was the political speaker, the stump orator, who 
was full of well-worn phrases, who could not men- 
tion the price of wool or the number of cotton 
bales without using the ferocious throaty-snarl of 
a beast of prey. 

He was followed by the clerical type, a speaker 
who used the most mournful cadences in correct- 
ing the gentleman on his left as to the number of 
cotton bales. His voice and manner formed a 
distinct reflection of the mournful preacher, and 
the tune of his high voice had the power of call- 
ing up the exact phraseology of sermons — “Re- 
pent, my lost brother, ere it be too late,” 
“Prepare for the last great day, my brother,” 
while he actually asserted the number of cotton 
bales had been grossly over-stated by the gentle- 
man from Alabama. 

On going down the stairs, Radbourn called his 
attention to the paintings, hanging here and there, 
which he called “hideous daubs” with the reck- 
less presumption of a born realist to whom alle- 
gory was a personal affront. Radbourn showed 
him about the city as much as he could spare 
time to do, and when he released him, Bradley 
went back to the capitol, which exercised the pro- 
foundest fascination upon him. 

He had not the courage to go back to the pri- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


287 


vate gallery into which Radbourn had penetrated, 
but went into the common gallery, which was full 
of negroes, unweariedly listening to the dry and 
almost unintelligible speeches below. 

He sat there the whole afternoon and went 
back to his hotel meek and very tired. 

Radbourn introduced him to a few of the mem- 
bers the next day. It was evident that nobody 
cared very much whether he had been elected or 
not. Each man had his own affairs to look after, 
and greeted him with a flabby hand-shake and 
looked at him with cold and wandering eyes. It 
was all very depressing. 

He grew nervous over the expenses which he 
was incurring, although he constantly referred 
himself back to the fact that he was a Congress- 
man, at a salary of thousand dollars. His 
economy was too deeply ingrained to be easily 
wiped out. He seldom got into a street-car that 
he did not hold a mental debate with himself to 
justify the extravagance. 

He went about a good deal during the next two 
or three days, but he continued at the cheap hotel, 
where he was obliged to keep his overcoat on in 
order to write a letter or read a newspaper. He 
went twice to the theatre. He bought a dollar 
seat the first time, which worried him all through 


288 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the play, and he did penance the following even- 
ing by walking the twenty blocks (both ways), 
and by taking a fifty-cent seat. He figured it a 
clear saving of sixty cents. He really enjoyed 
the play more than he would have done in a dollar 
seat and consoled himself with the reflection that 
no one knew he was a Congressman, anyway. 

He told Radbourn at the station that he had 
enjoyed every moment of his stay. As the train 
drew out he looked back upon the city, and the 
great dome its centre, with a deep feeling of 
admiration, almost love. It had seized upon him 
mightily. He had only to shut his eyes to see 
again that majestic pile with its vast rotundas, its 
bewildering corridors and its tumultuous repre- 
sentative hall. Life there would be worth while. 
He began to calculate how long it would be 
before he should return. It seemed a long while 
to wait. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


289 


XXV. 

IDA COMES INTO HIS LIFE AGAIN. 

After his return home he accepted every invi- 
tation to speak, because that relieved the tedium 
of his life in Rock River. He took an active part 
in the fall campaign in county politics, and he de- 
livered the Fourth of July address at the celebra- 
tion at Rock River amid the usual blare of bands 
and bray of fakirs and ice-cream vendors, while 
the small boys fired off crackers in perfect obliv- 
ion of anybody but themselves. 

It was magnificent to occupy a covered carriage 
in the parade and to sit on the platform as the 
centre of interest, and to rise amid cheers to 
address the citizens of the United States, to point 
to cloud-capped towering peaks, to plant the stars 
and stripes upon battlements of ancient wrong, 
and other equally patriotic things. 

No occasion was complete now without him. 


290 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


The strawberry festival that secured his presence 
felicitated itself upon the fact and always insisted 
on “just a few words, Mr. Congressman.” 

The summer passed rather better than he had 
anticipated. About a month before his return 
to Washington he received a letter from Ida ask- 
ing him to be present at a suffrage meeting in 
Des Moines, and he accepted the invitation with 
great pleasure. He had been wondering how he 
could see her again without making the journey 
for that purpose, which he could not bring himself 
to do. 

It was a soft, hazy October day and the ride to 
Des Moines was very beautiful. The landscape 
seemed to be in drowse, half-sleeping and half- 
waking. The jays flew from amber and orange- 
colored coverts of maples and oaks across the 
blue haze of the open, and quails piped from the 
hazel-thickets. Crows flapped lazily across the 
fields where the ploughmen were at work. The 
threshing machines hummed and clattered with a 
lower, quieter note, and as Bradley looked upon 
it all, the wonder of his release from the toil of 
reaping and threshing and ploughing came upon 
him again. 

Ida was glad to see him. She gave him her 
hand in a frank, strong clasp. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


291 


“You'll stay to tea with us, of course,” she 
said. “There is no one here but mother and I, 
and we can talk things all over. This is my 
mother,” she said, presenting an elderly lady with 
a broad, placid face. She said nothing whatever 
during his stay, but listened to all that was said 
with unchanging gravity. It was plain she wor- 
shipped her daughter, and never questioned what 
she said. 

They sat down at the table. 

“Mr. Talcott, this is Christine,” said Ida, intro- 
ducing a comely Norwegian girl who came in with 
the tea. “Christine takes care of mother while 
Fm away.” 

“Ay tank sometime she take care of me,” 
smiled Christine. 

Avoiding family matters, Ida talked on general 
subjects while the rest listened. She over-esti- 
mated Bradley's education, his reading, but he 
was profoundly thankful for it. He had never 
heard such talk. It was literature to him. She 
spoke with such fine deliberation and such choice 
of words. He felt its grace and power without 
understanding it. It seemed to him wonderful. 

“I should like to be a novelist,” she said. 
“I'd like to treat of this woman’s movement.” 

“Why can't you do it } ” he asked. 


292 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ I lack the time, the freedom from other inter- 
ests. But if I could be a novelist, it would be a 
novelist of life.” 

He never remembered all that she said, but she 
made an impression that was almost despair upon 
him by her incidental mention of books that he 
had never read, and of authors of whom he had 
never even heard. 

They walked to the church together along the 
side-walks littered with fallen leaves, and when 
they entered the side door she began to introduce 
him to the ladies who swarmed about her the 
moment they caught sight of her. Bradley felt 
embarrassed by their multiple presence, but was 
proud to be introduced by Ida. They moved to 
the platform. He had never spoken at such a 
meeting before and he was nervous. He spoke 
first and spoke well, but he would have done bet- 
ter with Ida’s face before him. When she spoke 
he sat looking up at the beautiful head and feel- 
ing rather than seeing the splendid lines of her 
broad, powerful and unconfined waist. The per- 
fume of her dress and its soft rustle as she moved 
to and fro before him made him forget her words. 

Cargill came up to the platform after the speak- 
ing and said jocosely, “Well, Legislator, you’re 
getting ahead. You’re laying a foundation for 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


293 


post-mortem fame, anyway. I hear you’ve been 
on to Congress.” 

“Yes, I went on and stayed a few days.” 

“ How’d you like it t ” 

“How do you do, Mr. Cargill,” said Ida at his 
elbow. “Aren’t you out of place here.?” 

“Not more than usual,” replied Cargill. “I’m 
always out of place.” 

“Do you know Mr. Birdsell.?” she asked, pre- 
senting a powerful young man with a singularly 
handsome face. He had clear brown eyes and a 
big, graceful mustache. For just a moment as he 
stood beside Ida, Bradley shivered with a sudden 
suspicion that they were lovers. 

“ Mr. Birdsell happens to be on from Musca- 
tene,” Ida explained, “and happened in to see a 
suffrage meeting. He’s trying to reconcile him- 
self to the idea of woman’s emancipation.” ^ 

“He’ll find a sympathizer in me,” put ''in 
Cargill. 

Bradley studied Birdsell with round-eyed steady 
stare. He was a superb type of man. It gave 
Bradley a feeling of awkwardness to stand beside 
him and a consciousness of stupidity to listen to 
their banter, but Ida dismissed Cargill and Bird^ 
sell summarily and walked home with Bradley. 
He was not keenly perceptive enough to see that 


294 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Ida put Birdsell off with a brusqueness that 
argued a perfect understanding. 

They walked home by the risen moon side by 
side. He had not the courage to take her arm 
and she did not offer it. He referred again to 
Washington and she asked him to remember the 
women in his legislation. 

<‘I don’t know what I’m going to do next, but I 
must reach the farmer’s wives again as I did in 
the days of the grange. I feel for them. They 
are to-day the most terrible proofs of man’s inhu- 
manity. My heart aches for them. There is a 
new farmer’s movement struggling forward, the 
Alliance. I’m thinking of going into that as a 
lecturer. Do you know anything about it } ” 

“No, not much.” 

They had reached the gate, and they stood 
there like lovers in the cold, clear moonlight just 
an instant, but in that lingering action of the 
woman there was something tender which Bradley 
seized upon. He asked again — 

“You’ll let me write to you again, won’t 
you.?” 

“Certainly. I shall follow your career with the 
deepest interest. I wish you’d think of this alli- 
ance movement and advise me what to do. Good- 
by.” She extended her hand. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


295 


“ Good-by/’ he said, and his voice choked. 
When he turned and walked away Washington 
was very far away indeed and political honors 
cheap as dust. 


296 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXVL 

CONGRESSIONAL LIFE. 

He found Washington less lonely for him on 
his return. There were many new members, and 
they sought each other socially and soon managed 
to have a good deal of talk among themselves, 
notwithstanding the studied slights of the old 
members. One member, Clancy, who grew pro- 
fane at times said, “These old seeds think they’re 
hell’s captains, but I guess we can live if they 
don’t shake hands.” 

Most of the members were married and lived 
with their families in rented houses, but others, 
who were too poor to bring their families or who 
were bachelors like Bradley, lived in boarding 
houses. Bradley secured a room and board in a 
house near the capitol, because he seemed to be 
nearer the centre of things when he could look 
out upon the dome. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


297 


It surprised him to learn how humbly most of 
the congressmen lived. They were quite ordi- 
nary humans in all ways. Of course some of the 
senators of great wealth lived in fine houses, but 
they were the exception, and the poorer members 
did not conceal their suspicion of these great 
men. 

It aint a question of how much a man’s got,” 
Clancy of Iowa said, “but how he got it. I’ve 
simmered the thing down to this: Living in a 
hash-house aint a guarantee of honesty any more 
than living in a four-story brown-stone is a sure 
sign of robbery, but it’s a tolerably safe 
inference.” 

These rich senators and representatives, own- 
ers of vast coal tracts, or iron mines, or factories, 
rode up to the capitol with glittering turn-outs, 
their horses’ clanking bits and jingling chains, 
warning pedestrians like Clancy and Talcott, to 
get out of the way. For the first time in his life 
Bradley met great wealth with all of its power. 
It shocked him and made him bitter. 

He took little interest in the organizing of the 
house. His experience in Des Moines taught 
him to sit quietly outside the governing circle. 
He accepted a place on one of the minor com- 
mittees and waited to see what would develop. 


298 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


His life was very quiet. Nothing was done 
before the holidays but organize, and he found a 
great deal of time to study. Radbourn came 
back during the early weeks of the session and 
resumed his work. 

Clancy went to the theatre very often and 
attended all manner of shows, especially all that 
were free or that came to him as a courtesy. 

“I’ve lived where I couldn’t get these things,” 
he said, “and I propose to improve each shining 
hour.” 

Attending Congress was quite like attending 
the legislature. Every morning the members 
went up to the great building, which they soon 
came to ignore, except as a place to do business 
in. They trooped there quite like boys going to 
school. It was the state legislature aggrandized 
— noisier, more tumultuous and confusing. 

In a little while, Bradley ceased to notice the 
difference in gilding and jim-crackery between 
the senate and representative ends of the cor- 
ridors. He no longer noticed the distances, the 
pictures, or the statues in the vaulted dome, but 
passed through the vast rotundas with no thought 
of them. The magnificence of it all grew com- 
mon with familiarity. 

The vast mass, and roar, and motion of the hall 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


299 


itself soon ceased to confuse or abase him. In 
proportion to membership, he doubted whether 
there were more able men there than in the State 
legislature. They were more acute politicians ; 
they were wilier, and talked in larger terms, manip- 
ulating states instead of counties — that was all. 
The routine of the day was of the same general 
character, and gave him no trouble. 

Some of the more famous of the leaders he 
absolutely loathed — great, bloated, swaggering, 
unscrupulous, treacherous tricksters. “I’ll lend 
you my support^'* they said, as if it were some- 
thing that could be loaned like a horse. He often 
talked them over with Radbourn, whose experience 
in and about Congress as a newspaper correspon- 
dent had given him an intimate knowledge of 
men, and had rendered him contemptuous, if not 
rebellious. 

“ The men counted party leaders are manipula- 
tors, as a matter of fact. They subordinate every- 
thing to party success. We’ve got to have 
another great political revolution to — to de-cen- 
tralize and de-machinize the whole of our political 
method. Our system will break of its own 
weight ; it can’t go on. It is supposed to be pop- 
ular, when in fact, it is getting farther and far- 
ther away from the people every year. Just see 


.300 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the departments. Do you know anything about 
them.?” 

>^‘"No, I don’t,” Bradley admitted. 

/ “You’re like all the rest. Every year the 
(army of useless clerks increases ; every year the 
rtqmbers of useless buildings increases. The 
whole thing is appalling, and yet the people are 
getting apparently more helpless to reform it. 
Laws pile uppn laws, when the real reform is to 
'^brdlTsb laws. Wipe out grants and special privi- 
leges. We ought to be legislating toward equali- 
ty of opportunity in the world, and here we go 
with McKinley bills, and the devil knows what 
else. By the way, to change the subject, what 
has become of Milton Jennings .? Restarted out 
to be a great Republican politician.” 

“ Well, he lives there yet ; he’s still in politics, 
but doesn’t seem to get higher than a county 
office.” 

“He was a brilliant fellow, but he started in on 
the wrong side ; there is no hope for him on that 
side in the West.” 

“He’s married, lives just opposite the Semin- 
ary, seems to be reasonably contented.” 

Radbourn turned suddenly. “You are not 
married .? ” 

Bradley colored. “No, I’m not.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


301 


Radbourn mused a little. “Seems to me, I 
remember some talk about your marrying that 
little — Russell girl } ” 

“Well, I didn’t.” Bradley had just a moment’s 
temptation to tell Radbourn his whole secret, but 
he gave it up as preposterous. 


Legislation was incredibly slow. 

“Beats the devil how little we fellows amount 
to here,” Clancy said one night after they had 
been sitting all day in their seats, while Brown 
of Georgia, Dixon of Maine, and others of their 
like had wasted hour after hour in ail sorts of 
tedious discussions upon mere technicalities. 
“We can’t even vote, by thunder! I’m going to 
make a great break one of these days and make 
a motion to adjourn.” 

Bradley laughed dutifully, for this was the 
ancient joke. 

“It’s an outrage,” Clancy fumed. The speaker 
had refused to recognize him and he was furious. 
“The speaker’s got everything in his hands. 
Say, do you know that it’s all made up the day 
before who’s goin’ to be recognized } ” 

“Yes, I found that out some time ago,” said 
Bradley quietly. 

“ Well, I feel like making a great big kick.” 


302 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


** It wouldn’t do any good.” 

“Yes, it would, it would relieve my feelings. 
It’s a pretty how de do, to send a man here to 
represent his constituents and then put the whole 
power of the house into the hands of the speaker 
and the committee on rules.” 

Bradley’s seat came between two of the old 
members, Samuels of Mississippi and Col. Max- 
well of South Carolina, and they were constantly 
talking across Bradley’s back or before his face, 
ignoring him completely. It wore on him so that 
he fell into the habit of sitting over beside the 
profane Clancy in Bidwell’s seat. Bidwell occu- 
pied the leather-covered lounge behind the screen 
so industriously that no one else felt privileged to 
throw himself down there. 

The drinking disgusted Bradley, and the 
obscene talk which he heard in snatches as he 
went past sickened him. The same sort of atti- 
tude toward the female clerks was expressed by a 
certain class of the legislators. He began to 
wonder if he were not abnormal in some way by 
reason of his repugnance to all this desolating 
derision of really holy things. He found that 
while he had less religion than these men, they 
had infinitely less reverence for the things which 
he considered sacred. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


303 


Some of the better class of members invited 
him to their houses and he went occasionally, and 
if he found them uncongenial he never went 
again. He could not make calls out of duty. It 
seemed to him that they took very little interest 
in the higher side of politics and some of them he 
found were unaware of any higher side of life.- 

He could not help noticing that Washington 
was a city full of beautiful girls. His idolatry of 
Miss Wilbur could not prevent him from admir- 
ing them as they streamed along the walk to 
church. He sometimes looked wistfully at this 
flood of sunny laughing life that moved by him so 
near and yet so completely out of his reach. He 
knew at such times that he had missed something 
sweet out of his own lonely life. 

But these moments were few. He realized 
that there was no place in the social life of the 
city for him, and the librarian knew him better 
than the butlers in the houses of rich senators. 
He attended one or two public receptions and 
was thoroughly disgusted with the crush, and felt 
the essential vulgarity of the whole thing; 

His life at the capital was not entirely that of 
the politician. He had in him capabilities for 
appreciating art and literature, which most of his 
colleagues had not. He studied upon economic 


304 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


problems, rather than upon partisan politics, and 
tried to grasp the meaning of social change and 
social condition, and to comprehend economic 
f'auses and tendencies. He spent many hours 
pon problems which were unconsciously unfit- 
ng him for partisan success. 



His life was very full and happy, save for the 
dull hunger at his heart whenever he thought of 
Ida. He wrote to her still, but her replies still 
kept their calm, irnpersonal tone. One night, 
when he returned from the capitol, he found a 
/fetter from her enclosing some clippings. 

I “I have joined the Farmers’ Alliance,” she 
I wrote. “ I begin to believe that another great 
wave of thought is about to sweep over the farm- 
/ ers. The j/mV of the grange did not die. It 
has passed on into this new organization. The 
difference is going to be that this new alliance 
of the farmers will be deeper in thought and 
broader in sympathy. I never believed the grange 
a failure. It taught people by its failure. Tm 
going to Kansas to speak for them there. The 
alliance is very strong there. This order will 
become political. Its leaders are very enthusias- 


tic.” 


She passed on to write of other things, but 
Bradley was deeply affected by this news. He 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


305 


had heard of the alliance obscurely, but had felt 
that it was only an attempt to revive the old 
grange movement, and that it could not succeed. 
But her letter set him thinking. 

He wrote away on a speech till nine o’clock, 
and then went out for his usual walk about the 
capitol and its grounds, which had never lost 
their charm, as the city itself had. He had grown 
into the habit of going out whenever he wished to 
escape the paltry decoration, the hot colors, the 
vitiated air, of his boarding-place and the impor- 
tunities of his fellow-boarders. He went out 
whenever he wanted to think great and refreshing 
thoughts, or whenever he felt the need of beauty 
or the presence of life. 


306 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXVII. 

Bradley’s long-cherished hope vanishes. 

It had been snowing all the afternoon, and the 
shrubbery hung heavy and silent with heaped, 
clinging, feathery snow, dazzling white by con- 
trast with the dark sustaining branches, and the 
yellow lamps flamed warmly amid the all-sur- 
rounding steely blue and glistening white. The 
damp pavements, where the snow had melted, 
were banded with gold and crimson from the 
reflected light of the lamps and the warning glare 
of car and carriage lights. 

As Bradley breathed the pure air and walked 
soundlessly along the narrow paths and looked 
across the unflecked, untrodden snow up to the 
vast and silent dome, he shuddered in wordless 
delight. He hungered to share it with Ida. It 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


307 


was like fairy-land — so far removed from daylight 
reality; and yet the sound of sleigh-bells, the 
occasional shouts of coasters, and the laughter of 
girls added a familiar human quality to it all, 
and added an ache to the mysterious shuddering 
delight of it all. It was so evanescent ; it would 
decay so quickly. The wind, the morning sun, 
would destroy it. 

He walked up to the lonely esplanade, and saw 
the city’s lights shine below him like rubies and 
amethysts, and saw far beyond the snow-heaped 
highlands, above which Jupiter hung poised, 
serene and lone, the king of the western sky. 

How far away all this seemed from the brazen 
declamation, the monotonous reiterations of the 
reading-clerk, and from the sharp clank of the 
speaker’s gavel ! His ear wearied, his heart sick 
of the whole life of the farcical legislature, with 
its flood of corrupt bills, got back serenity and 
youth and repose in the presence of the snows, 
the silences, and the stars. 

Again the impulse seized him to write to Ida 
and show her his whole soul ; to dare and end once 
for all his ache of suspense. He went back to his 
room, and seized pen^and paper. Everything he 
wrote seemed too formal or too presumptuous. 
At last he finished a short letter — 


308 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Dear Miss Wilbur : — 

I do not know how to begin to say what I want to say. I am 
afraid of losing you out of my life by not writing, and I’m afraid 
if I write, I will lose you. It is impossible for me to say what 
you’ve done for me. I never would have been anything more 
than a poor farmer, only for you. I don’t want to apologize to 
you for telling you how much you are to me. I want to appeal 
to you to give me a chance to work for you ; that’s all. I want 
you to give me some hope, if you can. 

I know I am asking a great deal even in that. I realize how 
unreasonable it is. You’ve only seen me a few times; and yet 
I’m not going to apologize for it. I must have it over with ; I 
can’t go on in this way. Won’t you write to me and tell me that 
I can look forward to the future with hope ? 

Yours sincerely, 

Bradley Talcott. 

For the next ten days he was of little service to 
his country except the day he made his speech on 
the tariff question. It was his first set speech, 
and he had twenty minutes yielded to him by the 
gentleman from Missouri, who had charge of the 
bill. He had the close attention of the House, 
not only for his thoughts, which were fresh and 
direct, but also for the natural manner in which 
he spoke. He had lost a good deal of his “ora- 
tory,” but had gained a powerful, flexible and col- 
loquial style which made most of the orators 
around him seem absurd. The fine shadings of 
emotion and of thought in his voice struck upon 
the ear wearied with rancous yells and monoto- 


A SPOIL OP OFFICE. 


309 


nous brazen declamations, with a cool and restful 
effect. At the close, the menbers crowded about 
to congratulate him upon his efforts, and for the 
moment he felt quite satisfied with himself. 

It gave him a ^ock to see Ida’s fateful letter 
lying upon the hat-rack in his boarding-house, 
where it had been pawed over by the whole house- 
hold. He hastened to his room, and dropped into 
a chair with that familiar terrible numbness in his 
limbs, and with his heart beating so hard it short- 
ened his breathing. He was like a man breath- 
less with running. When his eyes fell on the 
writing, his hands ceased to shake, and his quick 
breathing fell away into a long, shuddering inspi- 
ration. He read the first page twice without 
moving a muscle. Then he turned the page, and 
finished it. It was not long, and it was very direct. 

Dear Mr. Talcoti: — 

Your letter has moved me deeply, very deeply. I would have 
prevented its being written if I could. It is the greatest tribute 
— save one — that has ever come to me ; and yet I wish I had 
not read it. I’m not free to make you any promise. I’m not 
free to correspond with you any more — now. I’ve been trying to 
find a way to tell you so indirectly, but your letter makes it nec- 
essary for me to do so directly. 


The rest of the letter was an attempt to soften 
the blow, but it fell upon him very hard. 


310 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The possibility which he had always feared had 
become a fact, the hope which he had kept in the 
obscure processes of his thought and which had 
filled a vital place in his action, dropped out and 
left him purposeless. This hope of somehow, 
someway having her near to him had been the 
mainspring of his action and it could not be with- 
drawn without leaving him disabled. 

He returned to the letter again, and again 
studying each word, each mark. He saw in it 
her acceptance of some other — probably Birdsell. 

Then he saw that she had withdrawn the priv- 
ilege — the blessed privilege — of writing to her. 
She was determined to go out of his -life com- 
pletely. At times as he imagined this strongly, 
his throat swelled till he could hardly breathe. 
He would have cried if nature had not denied him 
that relief. 

He saw how baseless his hope had been, and he 
exonerated her from all blame. She had been 
kind and helpful till he spoiled it all by a fool’s 
presumption. He had always exaggerated her 
social position and her attainments, but in the 
depths of his self-abasement and despair every 
kindness she had done him and every letter she 
had written took on a new significance. On 
every one he saw her warnings. Every meeting 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


311 


he had ever had with her he now went over and 
over with the strange pleasure one takes in bruis- 
ing an aching limb. 

She had never been other than reserved, imper- 
sonal in his presence. She had shown him again 
and again that her intimate life was not for him to 
know. He remembered now the peculiar look of 
perfect understanding which flashed between Bird- 
sell and Ida, which troubled him at the time, but 
which his cursed egotism had brushed away as of 
no significance. 

His speech lay there on the table, it was waste 
paper now. He had no one left to address it to. 
His utter loneliness came back to him. His 
mind went back over the line of his life till it 
came again into the little opening in the Wiscon- 
sin woods where the pines wept or snarled cease- 
lessly — till his mother died in the moan and the 
snarl and shadow of them. His heart went out 
to her as never before since Ida came into his 
life. 

The gloom and reticence of those dark-green 
forests had wrought him into the reticent, serious 
man he was. He was not gloomy naturally, he 
was strong and hopeful, but this was one of those 
moments which appall a man, even a young man — 
or more properly, especially a young man. 


312 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


/ 


\ 


\ 


He did not go down to dinner, but sat in his 
room till late; then when hunger compelled, he 
went out to a vast cafe, where he could be more 
alone. It seemed that night as if all incentive to 
live were gone ; but he went to the session next 
day in a mechanical sort of a way, and each day 
thereafter in the same way, though he took no 
interest in the proceedings. 

Clancy had his suspicions and had to verify 
them. 

“Talcott, your’re off y’r feed. Girl gone back 
on yeh 

Bradley refused to reply and Clancy took delight 
in spreading the story among his gang. They 
respected Bradley’s physique too much to push 
him unduly, however. 

Nature slowly reasserted itself, and as the 
weeks went by he regained his interest in the 
work ; but the sparkle, the allurement of life, 
was gone, and he went about with more of the 
purely mechanical in his actions. 

He read now every available bit of news relat- 
ing to the farmers’ rising in the West, in the hope 
that Ida’s work would be mentioned in it. The 
V papers were getting savage in their attack upon 
t^e movement in Kansas. It was said to mean 
repudiation ; that it was a movement of the shift- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


313 


less and unscrupulous citizens which destroyed 
the credit of the State and disturbed social con- 
ditions wantonly. The West seemed on the point 
of upheaval, and Kansas seemed to be the centre 
of the feeling of unrest. 


314 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


XXVIII. 

SPRING CONVENTIONS. 

The session wore along monotonously — at least 
to those who like Bradley took no interest in the 
bitter partisan wrangling — and suddenly it came 
upon him that spring was near. There came a 
couple of sunny days after three days of warm 
rain and the grass grew suddenly green. A robin 
hunting worms on the lawn laughed out auda- 
ciously one morning as Bradley went across the 
path. There seemed to be a mysterious awaken- 
ing thrill in every plant and animal. The distant 
hills grew soft in outline. 

A few days and the Spirea Japonica flamed 
out in yellow, the quince in the hedges showed 
its rose-colored tips of bursting blooms and on the 
red buds grew wonderful garnet-colored fists soon 
to open into beautiful palms of flowers. The 
gardeners got out with rakes and wheel-barrows 
and lazily plodded to and fro upon the beautiful 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


315 


seamless green of the lawns, or spaded about the 
flowers beds in the countless little parks of the 
the city. 

A few days later and the old white mule and 
darkey driver came out upon the springing grass 
with the purring mower, and it made Bradley’s 
blood leap with recollections of the haying field. 
The air began to grow sweet with the odor of 
flowers. The sky took on a warm look. The 
building took on a deeper blue in its shadows and 
the north windows became violet at noon. Brad- 
ley longed for the country, but the orange-colored 
mud of the suburbs kept him confined to the 
sidewalks. 

On Easter Sunday the girls came out in their 
delicious dresses, looking dainty and sweet as the 
lilies each church displayed. New hats, new 
grasses and springing plants announced that 
spring had come. The “leaves of absence” indi- 
cated spring in the House. 

As spring came on, the question of re-election 
began to. trouble some of the members. They 
began to get “leave of absence on important 
business,” and to go home to fix up their political 
fences. There was no sign of adjournment. It 
was the policy ot the Republicans to keep the 
Democrats out of the field. 


316 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The profane Clancy was one of the first to go. 
He came to Bradley one day, “ Say, Talcott, I wish 
you’d ask for indefinite leave for me, my fences 
are in a hell of a fix and besides I want to see 
my wife. I’m no earthly use here — though you 
needn’t state that in your request.” 

“What’ll I say.?” 

“Oh, important business — or sickness — the 
baby’s cutting a tooth — just as you like. It all 
goes.” 

“I guess I’ll try important business. The 
other is too much worn.” 

“All right. It does beat hell the amount of 
sickness there is on pension bill nights and on 
convention week.” 

Clancy was a type of legislator whose idea of 
legislation was to have a good time and look out 
for re-election. Bradley, however, did not worry 
particularly about his re-election until he received 
a letter from the Judge asking him to come home 
and attend the convention. 

“It’s just as well to be on the ground,” the 
Judge wrote; “ there is a good deal of opposition 
developing in the north-west part of the district. 
Larson wants the nomination for the Legislature, 
and he is trying to swing the Scandinavians for 
Fishbein. They are making a good deal of your 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


317 


attitude on the pension bill, and that interview on 
the oleo business where you go back on your legis- 
lative vote is being circulated to do you harm.” 

This letter alarmed Bradley, and suddenly 
showed him what a fight the Judge was making. 
Suddenly he woke to the fact that defeat would 
be unwelcome. Congress had come at last to 
have a subtle fascination, and he loved the city 
and its noble buildings, its theatres, and its libra- 
ries. Since that fatal letter from Ida he had been 
forced to go more often to the theatres and con- 
certs. They seemed now like necessities of life, 
and the thought of going back to private life was 
not at all pleasant. He therefore got leave of 
absence, and took the train for Rock River. 

He did not see so much of the outside world 
on this return trip. His trouble came back upon 
him mixed, too, with something sweet which lay 
in the fact of a return to the West. He caught a 
thrill of this as the train dipped and swung round 
a peak on the west slope of the Alleghanies, and 
for a single instant the sea of sun-illumined swells 
and peaks of foliage broke upon the eyes and then 
was lost, and the train dropped down into the 
rising darkness of the valley. 

It came to him again the next afternoon as he 
rode away over the wide, low swells of the prairies 


318 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


between Chicago and the Mississippi. It was a 
beautiful showery June day. A day of alternate 
warm rain and brilliant sunshine, and the rushing 
engine plunged into trailing clouds of rain only to 
burst forth into sunshine again with exultant 
shrieks of untamed energy, and listening to it one 
might have fancied it a living thing with capa- 
bility to snuff the glorious west wind, and eyes to 
reflect the cool green swells of pasture. 

It was a magnificent thing to step off the 
Chicago sleeper into the broad morning at Rock 
River. Soaring streamers of red and flame-color 
arched the eastern sky like the dome of a mighty 
pagoda. Birds were singing in the cool, sweet 
hush ; roosters were crowing ; the air was full of 
the scent of fresh leaves and succulent, springing 
grain. Bradley abandoned himself to the spring, 
and his walk up the quiet street was a keen 
delight. The town seemed wofully small and 
shabby and lifeless ; but it had trees and birds 
and earth-smell to compensate for other things. 

There was no one at the station to receive him, 
not even a ’bus. The station agent said : 

Guess the Judge didn’t know you was cornin’ 
or he’d been down here with a band-wagon.” 

Mrs. Brown was in the kitchen bent above a 
pan of sizzling meat. A Norwegian girl with 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


319 


vivid blue eyes and pink and white complexion 
was setting the table with great precision. She 
smiled broadly as Bradley put his finger to his 
lips and crept toward Mrs. Brown, who gave a 
great start as she felt the clasp of his arm. 

Gracious sakes alive ! Bradley Talcott ! ” 

“Did I scare yeh ” he inquired, smiling. 
“ Where’s the Judge } ” 

She looked at him fondly as he held her a 
moment in his arms. 

“He’s out by the well — I think he’s at work 
at something, for I’ve heard him swearing and 
groaning out there.” 

Bradley found the Judge weeding a bed of 
onions. He had a couple of folded newspapers 
under his knees and was in his shirt-sleeves. He 
looked like a felon condemned for life to hard 
manual labor. 

“Judge, how are you called Bradley. 

The Judge looked up with a scowling brow. 
“Hello, Brad.” He wiped his hand on his thigh 
and rose with a groan to shake hands. “I’m 
slavin’ again. Mrs. Brown insists on my working 
on the garden. How’s Congress ” 

“Piratical as ever. Nothing doing that ought 
to be done. How’s everything here } ” 

The Judge put on his coat ; “I guess I’ll quit 


320 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


for this time,” he said, referring to the onions 
“Let’s wash up for breakfast.” 

They washed at the kitchen sink as usual. 
Mrs. Brown watched Bradley with maternal pleas- 
ure as he hung his coat on a nail and went about 
in his shirt-sleeves scrubbing his face and comb- 
ing his hair. 

“It’s good to see you around again, Bradley.” 

“Well, it seems good to me. Seems like old 
times to sit down here to your cooking with the 
kitchen door open and the chickens singing.” 

“We’re all right in this county,” said the 
Judge, referring back to politics ; “ but as I wrote 
you, it aint all clear sailing. We’ve got work to 
do. I’ve called the Convention at Cedarville, in 
order to keep some useful people in the field. 
We’ll take dinner with old Jake Schlimgen — he’s 
a power with the Germans.” 

Bradley avoided political talk as much as possi- 
ble, but when on the street there seemed nothing 
else to talk about. Councill and Ridings assured 
him he was all right in the eastern part of the 
county, and under their flattery he grew quite 
cheerful. Their simple, honest admiration did 
him good. 

On the day named Bradley and the Judge 
drove off up the road in a one-horse buggy. The 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


321 


Judge talked spasmodically; Bradley was silent, 
looking about him with half-shut eyes. The wheat 
had clothed the brown fields ; crows were flying 
through the soft mist that dimmed the light of 
the sun, but did not intercept its heat. Each hill 
and tree glimmered across the waves of warm air, 
and seemed to pulse as if alive. Blackbirds and 
robins and sparrows everywhere gave voice to the 
ecstasy which the men felt, but could not express. 

The Judge roused up, slapping' the horse with 
the reins. “It’s going to be' a fight; but Fish- 
bein will be left on the first ballot by twenty-five 
votes.” 

Cedarville was wide-awake — feverishly so. The 
street was lined with knots of gesticulating politi- 
cians. As he alighted Bradley’s friends swarmed 
about him with “three cheers for the Hon. 
Brad Talcott.” He shook hands all round with 
unfeigned pleasure. 

“ Hurrah, boys, let’s all go over to the Palace 
Hotel and have some dinner,” said the Judge at 
last. 

The rest whooped with delight. “That’s the 
cooky. Judge.” 

They swarmed in upon Jake like the locusts 
into Egypt. They washed (some of them) in the 
wash-room, out of tin basins, laughing and talking 


322 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


in hearty clamor over the water and the comb. 
Others flung their nondescript wind-worn hats 
upon the floor, brushed their hair with their fin- 
gers and went into the dining-room as if going 
into a farm-kitchen in threshing time. 

The girls were in a flutter of haste, and giggled 
and bumped against each other trying to serve 
the dinner to order — 

“Quick as the Lord ’ll let yeh.” 

Bradley’s constituents were mostly farmers, 
clean-eyed and hearty. They all felt sure of suc- 
cess and jeered the opposition good-naturedly. 

When the Judge and Bradley rode home that 
night, they were silent for another cause. They 
had been defeated on the tenth ballot, and bitter 
things had been said by both sides. 

It was again beautiful around them, but they 
did not notice it. The low sun flung its level red 
rays of light across the flaming green of the 
springing grain, and lighted every western win- 
dow-pane into burning squares of crimson. The 
train carrying the successful Waterville crowd 
passed them, and they waved their hats in return 
to their opponents’ salute. 

The Judge was as badly defeated as Bradley. 
He took it very hard. It seemed to give the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


323 


lie to all his prophecies of Democratic progress. 

It seemed to him a defeat of Jeffersonian prin-N 
ciple. He consoled himself by saying — 

‘‘Those fellows don’t represent the people. 
The thing to do is to bolt the convention ” ; 
and then he went on planning an independent 
campaign. 

Bradley maintained gloomy silence. . The com- 
ment of his friends burt him more than his defeat. 
Their tone of pity cut him, and left him raw to 
the gibes of his opponents. The fact that an 
honorable, honest man could have enemies in his 
own party was borne in upon him with merciless 
force. What had he done that men should yell 
in hell-like ferocity of glee over his defeat } 

This defeat cut closer into the Judge’s life than 
anything that had come to him since the death of 
his son. If Bradley had not been so blind in his 
selfish suffering he would have seen how the 
Judge had aged and saddened since the morning. 

But the old man’s vital nature would not rest 
under defeat. He almost forced Bradley to issue 
a card to the public announcing his independent 
candidacy for Congress. Bradley had no heart 
in it, however. The energy of youth seemed gone 
out of him. 

The Judge gathered his forces together for bat- 


324 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


tie, but Bradley fled away from Rock River to 
escape the comments of his friends as well as his 
enemies. He was too raw to invite strokes of the 
lash. He dreaded the meeting with his colleagues 
at Washington, but there was a little more reserve 
in their comment and there were fewer who took 
a vital interest in his affairs. 

He met Radbourn a few days after his return. 

“Well,” Radbourn said, “I see by the papers 
that your defeat in the convention was due to 
your advocacy of ‘cranky notions.’ I told you 
the advocacy of heresies was dangerous ; I have 
no comfort for you. You had your choice before 
you. You can be a hypocrite and knuckle down 
to every monopoly or special act, or you can be 
an individual and — go out of office.” 
r “ I’ll go out of office, I guess, whether I want 
/to or not,” was his bitter reply. He suffered 
I severely for a few days with the commiseration of 
friends and the thinly-veiled ridicule of his polit- 
ical enemies, but each man was too much occupied 
yto hold Bradley’s defeat long in mind. He soon 
sank back into quiet, if not into repose. 

As the hot weather came on, the city became 
almost as quiet as Rock River itself. Save tak- 
ing care of the few tourists who drifted through, 
there was very little doing. The cars ground 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


325 


along ever more thinly until they might be called 
occasional. The trees put forth their abundance 
of leaf, and under them the city seemed to sleep. 
Congress had settled down into a dull and drowsy 
succession of daily adjournments and filibuster- 
ing. The speaker ruled remorselessly, “counting 
the hats in the cloak-room to make up his quo- 
rum,” his critics said. 

Nothing was doing, but vast accumulations of 
appropriations were piling up, waiting the hurried 
action of the last few days of the session. The 
senators dawdled in and out dressed in the thin- 
nest clothing ; the House looked sparse and 
ineffectual. 

Bradley grew depressed, and at last he becambs 
positively ill. He was depressed by the incessant 
relentless attacks made upon him through the 
Waterville Patriot^ and by his apparently hope- 
less outlook. The Patriot published some of his 
radical utterances much garbled, of course, and 
called him “an anarchist and a socialist, a fit 
leader for the repudiating gang of alleged farmers 
in Kansas.” 

Radbourn became alarmed for him, and advised 
him to get indefinite leave of absence, and go 
home. “ Go back into the haying-field ; that’s 
what you need ; they won’t miss you here, Go 


326 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


home and go out of politics, and stay out till the 
revolution comes ; then go out and chalk death on 
your enemies’ door.” 

The advice to go home was so obviously sound 
that Bradley took it at once. It seemed as if the 
atmosphere of the city would destroy him. As a 
matter of fact it was inactivity that was killing 
him. He found it so hard to exercise — except 
by walking, and that did not rest his over-active 
mind. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


327 


XXIX. 

BRADLEY DISCOURAGED. 

The Judge and Mrs. Brown were alarmed at 
the change in him. He was gloomy and pale, but 
he protested he was all right. 

“ I’m going out on the farm. I believe it’ll 
do me good to go out and help Councill put up 
his hay. It seems to me if I could get phys- 
ically tired and wolfishly hungry again it would 
do me good.” 

The Judge drove him out to Council’s one 
afternoon. Everybody they met seemed delighted 
to see him. Mrs. Councill came out to the horse- 
block, her bare arm held up to shield her eyes. 

‘‘Well, Brad Talcott, how are yeh — anyway.^ 
you’re jest in time to help me pick berries.” 

Bradley sprang out and shook hands with hearty 
force. “ Give us your dish.” 

“H’yare! ” yelled Councill from the load of hay 
he was driving in, “I can use you out here.” 


328 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“Oh, you go long,” replied Mrs. Councill. 
“He’s got better company and a better job.” 

Out in the berry patch he talked over the 
neighborhood affairs and picked berries and killed 
mosquitoes, while the wind wandered by with 
rustling steps on the lombardy poplar leaves. 
The locusts sang and the grasshoppers snapped 
their shining wings. It was a blessed relief to 
his troubled older self, for he slipped back into 
the more tranquil life of his boyhood. 

At supper he sat at the table with the men, 
, whose wet shirts showed how fierce the work of 
pitching the hay had been. 

“Be yeh out fr play or work. Brad .^ ” asked 
Councill. 

“Work, need a hand.” 

“They’s plenty to do — but I’m afraid you 
can’t take a hand’s place for a while.” 

“Try me and see.” 

They were all curious to hear of Washington, 
* but he was more inclined to talk of the crops and 
the cattle. 

He went to sleep that night in the bare garrett 
with the men and woke the next morning at sun- 
rise at sound of Councill’s voice calling him, 
just as he used to do when he was a hired 


man. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


329 


Hello ! Brad. Roll out ! ” 

He went down to breakfast, sloshed his face at 
the cistern pump and was ready to eat when the 
men came in. 

“We live jest the same as ever, Brad,” said 
Mrs. Councill, “you’ll haf to put up with it jest 
as if y’ wa’n’t a Congressman.” 

“ I guess he can stand a few days what we 
stand all the while,” laughed Councill. 

There was a good deal of banter during the 
meal about “downing” the Congressman. 

Bradley’s physical pride was roused and he 
took his place in the field determined to show 
them their mistake. Night came bringing weari- 
ness that was exhaustion, and next morning he 
was too lame to lift a fork. It emphasized the 
unnatural inactivity into which he had fallen. 

He improved physically and by the end of the 
week was able to pitch hay with the rest. The 
Judge drove up for him on Saturday afternoon, 
and found him pitching hay upon the stack behind 
the wind-break, wet with sweat and covered with 
timothy bloom. Councill was stacking. 

“Hello, Congressman,” called the Judge. 

“Get off ’n take right hold, Judge,” said Coun- 
cill. “A Judge aint no better’n a Congressman, 
not a darn bit.” 


330 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“I’ll take a hand at the table,” the Judge 
replied. 

“ I’ve had about enough of it,” Bradley said to 
him privately while Councill was putting his team 
up. “I’m better, but it begins to seem like a 
waste of time.” 

They drove home that night through the still, 
warm, star-lit air, like father and son in slow talk 
of the future. 

The Judge told of the plan for the fall cam- 
paign, to which Bradley listened silently. 

“We’ll win yet if you only keep your grit.” 

He planned also a broadening out of their law 
business. A new block had just been built and 
they were to take two adjoining rooms. 

“You need a library of your own and a chance 
to work where you wont be disturbed. I’ll do 
the consulting business and leave you the busi- 
ness in court.” For a time Bradley was interested 
and occupied in moving into the new office and 
in getting in some new books and arranging the 
shelves. 

But the narrowness, the quiet, the mental stag- 
nation of the life of Rock River settled down on 
him at last. There were days when he walked 
the floor of the office, wild with dismay over his 
prospect. How could he settle down again to 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


331 


this life of the country lawyer ? The honors and 
ease that accompanied his office, the larger hori- 
zon of Washington, had ruined him for life in 
Rock River. Love might have enabled him to 
bear it, but he had given up the thought of mar- 
riage and he longed for the larger life he had left. 

There was a sorrowful scene when the Judge 
read for the first time Bradley’s letter of with- 
drawal from the canvass in the cause. The Judge 
was deeply hurt because he had not been con- 
sulted, and was depressed by Bradley’s despair. 
He tried to reason with him, but Bradley was in 
no mood to reason. 

“Fm out of it. Judge; it aint any use to go 
on ; Fm beaten ; that’s all there is about it ; we’d 
only get a minority vote, and show how weak we 
are; Fm a failure as a politician, and every other 
way. I give it up.” 

The Judge sat staring at him without words to 
express his terrible disappointment and alarm, for 
the condition into which his lieutenant had sunk 
scared him and he communicated his fear to Mrs. 
Brown. 

They discussed the matter that night just before 
going to sleep. Bradley heard their voices still 
mumbling on when he sank to sleep. 

“You don’t suppose, Mrs. Brown,” the Judge 


332 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


said a little timidly, “it can’t be possible it’s a 
woman ” — 

“ If it had been, Mr. Brown, he would have told 
me,” she said convincingly. “It’s just the heat, 
and then his defeat has told on him more than 
you admit.” 

“If I felt sure of that, Mrs. Brown,” the Judge 
said in answer, “but I don’t. All ambition seems 
to have gone out of him. I hate to acknowledge 
myself mistaken in the man. I’ve believed in 
Brad. I am alarmed about him. He aint right ; 
I’ve a good mind to send him down to St. Louis 
and Kansas City on some collection cases.” 

“ I think he’d better do that, Mr. Brown, if he 
will go.” 

“ Oh, he’ll go ; he wants to get away from the 
campaign ; it seems to wear upon him some way ; 
he avoids everybody, and won’t speak of it at all 
if he can help it.” 

As a matter of fact, Bradley was very glad to 
accept the offer, and made himself ready to go 
with more of his old-time interest than he had 
shown since his sickness. The Judge brightened 
up also, and said to him, as he was about to step 
into the train: “Now, Brad, don’t hurry back; 
take your time, and enjoy yourself. Go around 
by Chicago, if you feel like it.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


333 


After the train pulled out, and they were riding 
home, the Judge said to his wife: “Mrs. Brown, 
you must take good care of me now. I want to 
live to see a party grow up to the level of that 
young man’s ideas. This firm is crippled, but it 
aint in the hands of a receiver, Mrs. Brown.” 

“ I’ll be the receiver,” Mrs. Brown said. 

The Judge shifted the lines into his left hand. 

The horse fell into a walk. “ Mrs. Brown, if 
this weren’t a public road. I’d be tempted to put 
my strong right arm around you and give you a 
squeeze.” 

“I don’t see any one looking,” she said, and 
her eyes took on a pathetic suggestion of the 
roguishness her face must have worn in girlhood. 

He put his arm over her shoulder, and gave her 
a great hug. After that she laid her head against 
his shoulder, and cried a little; the Judge sighed. 

“Well, we’ll have to get reconciled to being 
alone, I suppose; we can’t •expect to keep him 
always.” 


/ 


334 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXX. 

THE GREAT ROUND UP. 

During his stay in St. Louis Bradley found the 
papers filled with the Alliance movement in Kan- 
sas, and looked for Ida’s name each morning. 
She was in the western part of the State, but mov- 
ing eastward ; and when a few days later he saw 
her announced in the Kansas City morning papers 
to speak at the great “round up ” at Chiquita, he 
packed his valise on the sudden impulse, and 
started on the next train, determined to hear her 
speak once more at least. 

It was just noon when he alighted from the 
train at Chiquita. The day was dry, hazy, re- 
splendent October — a genuine Western day. 
The wind was strong but amiable, and was full 
of the smell of corn and of that warm, pungent, 
smoky odor which forms the Indian summer at- 
mosphere of the West. The wind rushed up the 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


335 


broad street past him, carrying the dust and 
leaves in its powerful clutches, and laying strong 
hands upon his broad back. The sky was abso- 
lutely without speck, but a pale mist seemed to 
dim the radiance of the sun, and lent a milky 
white tone to the blue of the sky. 

As he moved slowly off up the street, he stud- 
ied the town and the people from the standpoint 
his life in the East had given him. Everywhere 
was an air of security. Men moved slower. 
Their faces were less anxious and more placid ; 
they had leisure to talk as they met at the shop 
door. The boss seemed farther away. But all 
this security did not conceal the poverty which 
he now saw everywhere. The houses were mainly 
low, unpainted buildings, containing only three or 
four cramped rooms. They were a little smarter 
in appearance than the country type, but not 
much more commodious. 

I wonder if you are one of the speakers here 
to-day,” said a voice behind him. 

Bradley turned, and saw a small man with 
a stubby mustache, under whose derby hat-rim 
a pair of round black eyes shone with a keen 
glitter. 

‘‘ No, sir, Tm not.” 


336 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Beg pardon, no harm done. Saw you get off 
with your valise ; knew you wern’t a native by 
the cut o’ y’r jib. Excuse me, I hope ? ” 

“Certainly; I’m just on to see some friends 
here.” 

** Precisely ; I’m up from Kansas City to see 
the big ‘round up,’ as they call it. Here’s my 
card. I represent what our Alliance friends call 
the ‘ plutocratic press.’ ” His card stated that 
his name was Mr. Davis, and that he represented 
the Chro7ticle. “ I’m afraid the parade must be 
over by this time, but I missed my train. Per- 
haps we had better step along a little.” 

They had reached the main street, a broad 
avenue which ran north and south across a gentle 
swell in the prairie. There were a great many 
people on the sidewalks, and teams were mov- 
ing in various directions slowly and in apparent 
confusion. 

“ Let’s go over here to the Commercial House ; 
that’s the headquarters of all the brethren,” said 
Davis. 

They went across the street to the Commercial 
House, which they found full of men in groups, 
talking very earnestly, but quietly. Most of them 
were farmer-like looking figures, big and brown. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


337 


and dressed in worn, faded clothing. Here and 
there was a young man, with a broad white hat, 
a gay handkerchief knotted loosely about his neck. 
On all sides could be heard the same soft, slightly 
drawling speech of the Kansan. 

They went up to a little balcony which pro- 
jected over the walk. There were four or five other 
young fellows seated there already. They all 
wore the wide, straight - brim hats, with the 
Crowns uncrushed, which struck Bradley as being 
a characteristic Kansas hat. Some of them were 
magnificent-looking fellows, keen, wholesome, and 
picturesque in their dress. 

Excuse me now, gentlemen,” said Davis, 
whipping out his note-book. Tm the reporter, 
and here they come.” 

Up the broad street, under that soaring sky, 
from their homes upon a magnificently fertile 
soil, came the long procession of revolting farm- 
ers. There were no bands to lead them ; no flut- 
tering of gay flags ; no cheers from the bystanders. 
They rode in grim silence for the most part, as if 
at a funeral of their dead hopes — as if their mere 
presence were- a protest. 

Everywhere the same color predominated — a 
russet brown. Their faces were bronzed and thin. 


338 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Their beards were long and faded, and tangled 
like autumn corn silk. Their gaunt, gnarled, and 
knotted hands held the reins over their equally 
sad and sober teams. The women looked worn 
and thin, and sat bent forward over the children 
in their laps. The dust had settled upon their 
ill-fitting dresses. There were no smart carriages, 
no touch of gay paint, no glittering new har- 
nesses ; the whole procession was keyed down 
among the most desolate and sorrowful grays, 
browns, and drabs. 

Slowly they moved past. In some of the wag- 
ons, banners, rudely painted on cotton cloth, ut- 
tered the farmers’ protest , in words. 

Good God ! ” said Davis, as he dashed away at 
his writing. ‘‘ Did you ever see such a funeral 
in your life ? See that banner ! ” 

No More Fourteen-Cent Corn. 

Go on voting for the monopolists in the Re- 
publican party, and you’ll have ten-cent corn,” 
Davis growled to the farmer who carried the 
banner. 

Let Us Legislate for the Poor, not for 
THE Bankers. 

“That’s the ticket. Suppose we do try that 
a while.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


339 


Down with Monopolies. 

“ All right, down with them ; you’re the 
doctor.” 

Free Trade, Free Land, Money at Cost, 
Transportation at Cost. 

“ Now you are shouting, brother. See that old 
woman in the sunbonnet carrying that banner! 
Now, don’t make no mistake ; the old girl knows 
just what that means ; that’s right ! They’re all 
reading these days, even the babies. See that old 
father in Israel with a faded beard wagging up 
and down ! ” 

If We Don’t Own the Railways, the 
Railways Will Own Us. 

Cert. That’s right, daddy; stick to your text.” 

Abolish the National Banks. 

‘‘ I guess you’ve got to wipe out both old parties 
to do that,” said Davis, writing away furiously. 

“ That’s right! ” said one of the young fellows 
on the balcony, “and we’ll do it in 1892.” 

“All right; I don’t care a continental tee- 
cumpsy.” 

Equal Rights to All is as Dear to the 
Heart of the Farmer as it was in 
THE Days of our Forefathers. 


340 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Well, now, sure you mean that — that’s all. 
Stop talking, and act. If you’ll go ahead and 
carry out that motto, you’ll do a work that has 
never been done in America or any other country 
on the face of the earth,” said Davis. “ That’s 
the end of it ; let’s go down on the street.” 

Bradley had remained perfectly silent through 
it all. As these farmers passed before his eyes, 
there came into his mind vast conceptions that 
thrilled him till he shuddered — a realization that 
that here was an army of veterans, men grown old 
in the ferocious struggle against injustice and the 
apparent niggardliness of nature, — a grim and 
terrible battle-line. It was made up, throughout 
its entire length, of old or middle-aged men and 
women with stooping shoulders, and eyes dim with 
toil and suffering. There was nothing of lovely 
girlhood or elastic, smiling boyhood ; not a touch 
of color or grace in the whole line of march. It 

was. sombre, silent, ominous, and resolute. 

f \ 

It appeared to him the most pathetic, tragic, and 
desperate revolt against oppression and wrong ever 
made by the American farmer. It was the Grange 
movement broadened, deepened, and made more 
desperate and wide-reaching by changing condi- 
tions. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


341 


“ Well ! If they ain’t a calamity crowd,” 
sneered a flashily dressed man who stood in the 
doorway of a jeweler shop. 

Bradley’s indignation flared out against him. 
He stammered in trying to speak. “ Calamity ! 
What right have you got to sneer at men like 
that ? A man that can sneer at such an exhibition 
of poverty and hard work and poor pay as that, is 
a damned scoundrel.” 

That’s right,” cheered Davis, ^‘all they needed 
in that procession was a few cannon or cans of 
dynamite. Then the parasites and boomers of this 
State wouldn’t be so chipper in their remarks.” 

At Davis’ suggestion they went off down the 
street, joining the crowd on the sidewalk, which 
was streaming away towards the fair grounds. A 
roasted ox was to be served there, and speeches 
were to follow. The road kept on to the south, 
down over the gentle slope, and turned aside under 
the jack-oaks, and led through a wooden gate into 
an enclosure which was used for the county fair. 
Down under the great shed by the side of the race- 
track the people swarmed in thousands. 

When Bradley came near he saw that they were 
all standing about the rude tables under the shed, 
behind which were men and women busily hewing 


342 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


off great lumps of beef and mutton, and slicing 
fat slabs of bread, which were snatched and carried 
away in little paper plates by the hungry people. 
Here and there beside their wagons, families 
were eating a dinner of their own. 

He was accustomed to gatherings of farmers, 
but these crowds appealed to him in a strange 
way. 

The same sober color predominated. There 
was a little more life and gayety in their speech 
here. Their grim, harsh faces relaxed a little, 
and now and then broke into unwonted smiles as 
they stood about devouring their food and discuss- 
ing the meeting, which they counted a success. 
Everywhere were hearty handshaking and frater- 
nal greetings. 

All about the grounds there stood feeble 
women in ill-fitting clothes, with tired children 
in their aching arms, a dull pain in their weak- 
ened loins. Bradley did nothing but absorb it all 
and wonder why such festivals had ever seemed 
mirthful and happy to him. He wondered if there 
used to be so many tired faces at the Grange pic- 
nics in Iowa. Were the farmers really less com- 
fortable and happy, or had he simply grown clear- 
sighted ? He ended by believing in both causes. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


343 


Kansas as it stood there was Democratic. Pov- 
erty has few distinctions among its victims. The 
negro stood close beside his white brother in ad- 
versity, and there was a certain relation and re- 
semblance in their stiffened walk, poor clothing, 
and dumb, imploring, empty hands. There lay in 
the whole scene something tremendous, something 
pathetic. It had the majesty, if not the volcanic 
energy, of the rise of the peasants of the Vendee. 

After the dinner was eaten, the people gradually 
took their seats on the grandstand, facing a plat- 
form upon which the people were already assem- 
bled. Bradley looked about for Ida, but she had 
not come. The choir amused the people with a 
few Alliance songs, whose character may be indi- 
cated by their titles Join the Alliance Step," 
‘‘Get off the Fence, Brother," “We’re Marching 
Along," etc. 

The people were watching eagerly for Ida’s ap- 
pearance ; and when she came in view, escorted . 
by the chairman and by the far-famed farmer legis- 
lator of Kansas, they broke into applause so hearty, 
there could be no doubt of their love for her and 
for the Sage of Medicine Lodge. The people oh 
the platform swarmed about to greet them, and 
hid her from sight. 


344 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


As Ida rose to speak now, it was in the broad 
light of the present day. No dapple of shadows 
was there, no rustle of leaves, no green, mossy 
trunks of trees. She stood on a platform facing 
five thousand faces under a shed-like roof. There 
was poetry here, but it was one of the modern 
contemporaneous sort. It was in the significance 
of this rebellion, in the attention of these people 
turned toward her. 

She was changed too. She was now a mature 
woman. There was nothing girlish about her 
talk or her manner. There was decision in the 
tones of her voice, and a sense of power in the 
poise of her head and in the lofty gesture of her 
hand. She no longer made a speech. She talked 
straight at her audiences. 

“ I wish the whole world could see this meet- 
ing,” she said, “and understand it for what it is. 
It is an expressio7i of a movement, not the move- 
ment itself. It is a demand ; but the revolt that 
lies back of the demand is greater than the ex- 
pression of it. The demand, the expression, may 
change, the form of our whole movement may pass 
away; but the spirit that makes it great, that 
carries it forward, is invincible and imperishable. 
All the ages have contributed to this movement. 
It is an outgrowth of the past. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


345 


‘*The heart and centre of this movement is a 
demand for justice, not for ourselves alone, but 
for the toiling poor wherever found. If this 
movement is higher and deeper and broader than 
the Grange was, it is because its sympathies are 
broader. With me, it is no longer a question of 
legislating for the farmer; it is a question of the 
abolition of industrial slavery.” 

The tremendous cheer which broke forth at this 
point showed that the conception of the movement 
had widened in the minds of the people them- 
selves ; it was no longer a class movement. It 
stirred Bradley as if some vast electric wind had 
blown upon him. 

“Wherever a man is robbed, wherever a man 
toils and the fruits of his toils are taken from him : 
wherever the frosty lash of winter stings or the 
tear of poverty scalds, there the principle of our 
order reaches. [Applause, and cries, “ That’s 
right!” “Justice!”] 

“Yes, justice is our plea. Justice to the coal- 
miners, justice to the mechanics, justice to 
women, and justice to the negro. I tell you, my 
friends, we’re just coming to see what our move- 
ment means. We’re just coming to understand 
what the fundamental principle of our order 


346 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


means : Equal rights to ally and special privileges to 
none. 

“ My Democratic brother,” she cried, turning to 
her right, as if talking to Bradley, “you’re fond of 
stating that principle, but do you know what it 
means? Think of it a moment, — Equal rights to 
all, special privileges to none. That means no 
more national banks [the cheering at this point 
was deafening and prolonged] ; no more special 
privileges to issue money based on the nation’s 
indebtedness. It means money issued direct from 
the government and based upon the nation’s re- 
sources. [Cheers and cries of “That’s right !’‘ 
from all over the vast audience.] 

^/"’T^qual rights to all, means no more land grants 
/to railways ; no more giving away of franchises ; 
no more monopolies of the city streets ; no more 
charters given to railway kings and telephone 
magnates. It means that the monopoly of food 
V and intelligence must cease. 

V^Equal rights to all ! That means equal rights 
to the natural world, and to the value produced by 
the aggregation of men. It means no more lum- 
ber kings [applause], coal kings, and oil kings — 
we propose to dethrone them all.” 

The people turned to each other with shining 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


347 


faces. She was thrilling them by her passionate, 
simple utterance of their innermost thoughts. 

“ Equal rights to all ! That nieans equal rights 
to women, to the negro, to the Chinese, to the 
Irish, to everybody that to-day is hedged in by 
class prejudice, or by the walls of caste.” / 

While she spoke Bradley had eyes for nothing/ 
else ; but when she sat down to wild applause, 
and the choir rose to sing, he turned his eyes 
back over the audience, banked there in rows on 
the hard, wooden seats, and got again the same 
thrill of majesty and of desolation. There was 
the same absence of beauty, youth, color, and 
grace that he had noticed in the procession. 
Everywhere worn and weary women in sombre 
dresses, a wistful light in their faces, as if they 
felt dimly the difference between the lithe and 
beautiful figure of the girl and their own stiffened 
joints and emaciated forms. 

The crowd as a whole sat silent, listening in- 
tently, their eyes fixed upon the speaker. They 
were there for a purpose ; they were there to find 
out why it was that their toil, their sobriety, their 
rigid economy, their deprivation, left them at 
middle life with distorted and stiffened limbs, 
gray hair, and empty hands. They were terribly 


348 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


in earnest. Here was poverty without liquor. 
There was no trace of it to be seen or smelled. 
Never before in the history of the world had such 
a meeting been seen, and something of its mighty 
significance got hold of Bradley as his eyes rolled 
over the faces before him. 

The music, which set them wild with enthusi- 
asm, was of the simplest and most stirring sort. 
The fact that it pleased them so much showed 
how barren their lives were of music and color 
and light. 

After the applause had subsided, the chairman 
came forward to make an announcement : “ To- 
night we’ll have with us again the famous son of 
the soil, otir Jerry — Jerry Simpson, the Sockless 
Sage of Medicine Lodge.” This brought out a 
round of cheers for Jerry, and the meeting rose. 

The people pressed forward to speak a word to 
Ida; and Bradley, yielding to the pressure of the 
crowd, was carried forward with it. It stirred 
him very deeply to see the love and admiration 
they all felt for her. On all sides he heard words 
of affection which came straight from the heart. 
Their utter sincerity could not be doubted. He 
knew he ought to turn and go away before she 
saw him, but he could not. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


349 


Something in his face attracted a grizzly old 
farmer, who was moving along beside him, and he 
turned with a beaming look. 

“ How’s that for a speech, eh ^ Did y’ ever 
hear the like of it ? ” 

“No, I never did. It was great.” 



“ Ain’t she a wonder, now } D’ you s’pose 
there’s another woman like her in the world ? ” 


Bradley shook his head. He was sure 


that. 


A gaunt old woman, who wore a dark green- 
check sunbonnet hanging at the back of her 
head, put in a word. 



“Shows what a woman can do if y’ give ’er a 
chance.” 

“ Hello, Sister Slocum, you’re always on hand.” 

“ Like a sore thumb. Brother Tobey, an’ I don’t 
know of any one got a bigger interest in downin’ 
the plutes than the farmers’ wives, do you 

It was pathetic, it was unforgettable, to see 
these people as they stood beside the rounded, 
supple, splendid figure of the speaker and took 
her strong, smooth hand in their work-scarred, 
leathery palms — these women of many children 
and never-ending work, bent by toil above the 
wash-tub and the churn, shut out from all things 


350 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


that humanize and make living something more 
than a brute struggle against hunger and cold. 

They clung to the girl’s hand, gazing at her 
with wistful eyes. It seemed as if they could not 
bear to let her go out of their lives again. Ida 
greeted them smilingly, but her face was quiver- 
ing with a sadness which she could hardly control. 
She had not yet seen Bradley’s approach. He 
pushed on desperately toward her. At length, as 
the crowd began to thin out, he moved up and 
thrust his long arm in over the shoulders of the 
women. 

“ Won’t you shake hands with me, too ? ” he 
said, and his voice trembled. 

She turned quickly, and her face flashed into a 
smile — a smile different, somehow, from that 
with which she had greeted the others, and they 
saw it. It warmed his melancholy soul like a sud- 
den ray of June sunlight. 

Her hand met his, strong and firm in its grasp. 
“Ah! Mr. Talcott, I’m glad to see you.” 

The farmers’ wives began to leave, saying good- 
by over and over again, clinging to her hand as if 
they could not let her go — as they would cling 
to sunlight. 

“ We may never see you again, dearie,” one old 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


351 


lady said, “but we never’ll forgit yeh. You’ve 
helped us. I reckon life won’t seem quite so 
tough now. We kind o’ see a glimmer of a way 
out.” 

The tears were on her face, and Ida put her 
arms about the old lady’s neck and kissed her, 
and then turned away, unable to speak. The 
chairman, followed by Bradley and Ida, made his 
way down the steps and out on the grounds, where 
the streams of people were setting back toward 
the city. The chairman placed Miss Wilbur in a 
carriage, and said, “ I’ll see you at the hotel.” 

“ Won’t you ride } ” she asked, 

“ No, thank you,” he replied, with a jovial 
gleam in his eyes, and Ida said no more in 
protest. 

“Well, Brother Talcott, what do you think of 
such a meeting as that.?” she asked, after the 
carriage started, turning upon him with sudden 
intensity. 

“ It was like that first meeting of the Grange, 
when I heard you speak first, only this is more 
earnest — more desperate, I should say.” 

“ Yes, the.se people are desperate. It is impos- 
sible for the world to realize the earnestness of 
these farmers. Just see the interest the women- 


352 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


folks take in it ! No other movement in history — 
not even the anti-slavery cause — appealed to the 
women like this movement here in Kansas. Why 
iys, — Sometimes I go home and walk the floor like 
^a crazy woman — I get so wrought up over it. 
While our two great parties split hairs on the 
tariff, people starve. The time has come for 
rebellion." 

Bradley was silent. He sympathized with her 
M^li^, but he could not see very much hope in a 
revolt. 

Her eyes glowed with the fire of prophecy. 
Bradley gazed at her with apprehensive eyes. She 
seemed unwholesomely excited. But she broke 
into a hearty laugh, and said : “You stare. Well, 
I won’t lecture any more to you. How did you 
leave' everything back in dear old Iowa.?” 

“Why aren’t you back there .? Don’t our farmers 
need you there just the same as they do here .? " 

“No, this is the State to work in this year. 
Next year in Iowa. What did you do in Wash- 
ington.?" 

“ Nothing," he replied ; and there was some- 
thing silencing in his voice. 

She glanced at his face sharply. She hesitated 
an instant, then asked : — 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


353 


”Do you go back?” 

“ No, my political career is ended. I was knifed 
in the convention.” 

“ You are young.” 

“ Fm not young enough to outgrow such a de- 
feat as that. Fm done.” 

This mood seemed singularly unlike him, as she 
had known him before. She seized upon the 
situation. 

“ Come with us. There is more wool and flax 
in the fields,” she quoted. 

“I can’t. I don’t see things as you do — I 
mean I don’t see any cure.” 

She laid her hand on his arm. “ Fm going to 
convert you. Will you attend one more meeting 
with me ? ” 

“ Fll go wherever you say,” he answered, incon- 
sistently. 

That’s very pleasant, but it hardly becomes 
your character,” she replied, gravely. “ Call at 
the hotel to-morrow night, and Fll take you with 
me. It’ll show you what the people are doing, and 
what Fm doing. You’re to ask no questions, but 
just make yourself ready to go.” 

Bradley’s mind was in a whirl. Ida seemed so 
different — not at all like that last letter she had 


354 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE, 


written to him. He felt rather than perceived 
the change in her. An indefinite and unreason- 
able exultation filled his eyes with light. In the 
privacy of his room he sang a few notes before he 
realized what he was doing. His gloomy sky had 
let fall a sudden ray of dazzling sunshine. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


355 


\ 


XXXI. 

IDA SHOWS BRADLEY THE WAY OUT. 

He did not see her again till the next afternoon. 
She came out into the ante-room in the hotel look- 
ing so lovely he could hardly believe his good 
fortune. 

“ Now you are in my hands, Mr.Talcott.” 

He noticed that she did not call him “Brother” 
Talcott. He was as boyish and timid as ever, sub- 
dued by her presence. He followed her out to 
the omnibus in a daze of delight. He really had 
nothing to say. The poverty of his mind was 
astounding to him. He had forgotten all his 
ideas, but he was very content to have it so. 

She, however, did not seem at all self-conscious. 
She wore a large cloak and warm gloves, and 
under the wide rim of her black hat her face was 
like silver and her eyes like stars. A delicate per- 
fume came from her dress, and reached him across 


356 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


the carriage. He had taken a seat opposite her, 
and gazed at her in' speechless contentment. He 
could think of nothing else to do or say. 

“ It takes about an hour to go down,” she said, 
as they alighted and stood waiting for the train, 
“ and then the ‘ college ’ is some distance away from 
the station.” 

It was an unspeakable pleasure to sit beside her 
in the train and listen to her talk. It was one of 
the things he had dreamed of so many times, but 
had really never dared to expect. , ' 

“The reason I want you to attend this meeting 
is because the schoolhouse, after all, is the place 
where a real reform among the farmers must have 
its base. It is work in the schoolhouses that has 
prepared the way for the overturn in Kansas this 
year. I’d like to see you working with us,” she 
said, turning suddenly towards him. 

“I would if I felt as 3^ou do about it, but I can’t.” 

“Why not.? You’re really one of us. Your 
letters showed me that. Why can’t you work 
with us .? ” 

“ Because I ” — he hesitated for a moment. “ You 
see, I began by being a Republican ; then I went 
into the Independent Republican Convention ; 

Hhen into the Democratic Independent Convention; 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 357 

then I ran for Congress as a Democrat. I was 
elected to stay at home, as you know, because I 
was too ‘radical’ for Democracy. I tried to put 
principle above spoils. I’m a Democrat to-day, 
but they won’t have me ; so I’m done. I can’t go 
into your party.” 

“ That doesn’t appeal to me as a reason,” she 
insisted. She wanted his real reason. 

“ Well, I’ll tell you : because it looks like a last 
resort. It would look as though, after having been 
kicked out of both parties, I had gone into the 
third party out of revenge.” 

‘^Well, I see some force in that. But still, 
there isn’t any other place for a man who really 
thinks, except in a reform party. Do you know, I 
think it was providential that you were defeated.” 
She turned to him now, and there was something 
in the nearness of her face that awed him. “ Your 
letters to me told me more than you knew. I read 
beneath the lines ; I saw how nearly the atmos- 
phere of Congress had ruined you. The greed of 
office had got hold of you, now hadn’t it } ” 

He dropped his eyes. “ Something got hold of 
me,” he said at length, “ but I can’t indorse the / 
principles of your party, and you wouldn’t have 
me ” — 


358 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ Can’t you indorse any of them ? ” 

“Yes, I think so.” 

“ Well, then, be with us to that extent.” 

“ I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t work for a party 
whose principles ” — 

“ Can you indorse all of the Democratic plat- 
form .? ” 

“ No,” he confessed, after a pause. 

“ Then, it seems to me you’re inconsistent. 
Why do you hold out against us } Now, that 
seems to me like the ‘ woman’s talk ’ men are al- 
ways flinging up at us.” 

Bradley was silent. His action, like his reasons, 
would not bear close inspection. He felt that she 
had driven him into a close corner. 

Ida took a new direction. “ Oh, it’s glorious to 
be in such a revolution. I never was so happy in 
my life. Happy and sad too ! I never was so sad. 
Now thaf s like a woman, isn’t it } What I really 
mean is that I never saw so clearly the poverty and 
helplessness of the people before, and that makes 
me all the happier to think I can do something for 
them.” She laid her hand on his arm. “ Do you 
know what is the matter with you } I do. You’ve 
trusted politicians. You think all is destroyed 
because they’ve failed you. You think, even to- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


359 


night, that they move things ; but I tell 
brother, they’re only the puppets. When th^ 
people really begin to think, they’ll sweep these \ 
puppets from the boards, and rise to the stage of / 
action themselves.” 

Her voice took on the touch of the orator’s o/a- 
tund as she spoke, but there was a look of deep 
sincerity of conviction that was almost prophecy 
on her face, which seemed to grow paler with the 
intensity of her utterance. 

Bradley sat silently looking at her with his big 
brown eyes. He was wishing she wouldn’t call 
him brother, and take that impersonal tone with 
him. 

She colored a little, and dropped her eyes sud- 
denly. There I go again ! I must keep the ora- 
torical tone out of my voice. I don’t like to hear 
it myself ; but it’s election time, you see, and we’re 
all tense with the excitement of it. Don’t mind 
my preaching at you, will you } ” 

‘‘ I like it,” said Bradley, smiling. He had a 
beautiful smile, she noticed ; and he looked so big 
and strong and thoughtful, she suddenly grew a 
little timid before him. Perhaps he had some 
unspoken reasons why he had not joined the 
movement. 


360 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


The warning whistle of the engine annomnced 
they were nearing a station, and the brakeman 
shouted in the door, “ Muddy Brook, Muddy 
Brook ! ” 

The wind was strong and cold as they stepped 
out upon the platform. It was nearly six o’clock, 
and quite dark. They stood for a few moments in 
the lee of the one-room station, looking about in 
the obscurity. 

Well, what are we to do now ? ” Bradley 
inquired. 

She seemed at a loss. “ Really, I don’t know. 
Colonel Barker was to meet me here, I believe.” 

Bradley took her arm. “There’s a light up 
there in the cold,” he said. “ Let’s go for that ; 
and if you’ll tell me the name of the schoolhouse. 
I’ll see that we get a team, and get out there.” 

She resigned herself to his custody at once, and 
Bradley’s spirits rose. He grew quite facetious 
and talkative for him. 

“ It seems to me that’s a store up there ; must 
be a town near by. Perhaps ^/ds is a town. Two 
houses on one side and three houses on the other 
make a town in the West. We must get some 
supper, too ; any provision for that ? ” 

“ No, I left the whole matter in Colonel Barker’s 
hands.” 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


361 


The road ran up the huge treeless swell of prairie 
toward the lighted windows of a grocery store. 

Somebody alive in the store ; let’s go in, and 
ask for Colonel Barker.” 

They stumbled over the frozen ground to the 
door, and entered. 

The store smelled of apples, onions, codfish, and 
kerosene, in the usual way, and was dimly lighted 
with lamps placed on brackets against the shelves. 
There were several farmers standing by the stove, 
while the salesman bustled about. Bradley asked 
if Colonel Barker had been in. 

“ Hain’t seen him,” replied one old farmer, 
eying Ida closely. 

“ Is there a place to get a bit of supper near ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” the salesman said, with emphasis; 
“ right across the road at the hotel. You can’t 
get a better meal in the State for the same amount 
of money.” 

Bradley again took Ida’s arm, and they crossed 
the street and entered a gate on which was a 
sign, “ Hotel ; meals twenty-five cents.” Bradley 
knocked on the door, but there was no reply. 

After waiting a decent while, he said, “ If it’s 
a hotel, we might as well go right in without 
knocking.” 


362 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


They entered a bare little room whose only re- 
semblance to a hotel bar-room was its rusty can- 
non stove set in the midst of a box of sawdust, 
and a map of Kansas hanging on the wall. Brad- 
ley knocked on the inner door, and it was opened 
by a faded little woman with a sad face. 

“ We’d like supper for two,” Bradley said, in a 
loud voice. Someway he felt that the woman 
must be hard of hearing. 

“ All right ! ” she replied, and moved forward to 
the stove, which she rattled in order to give her 
time to scrutinize Ida, who sat on the lounge by 
the window. “ Lay off your things, won’t yeh } ” 

Bradley helped Ida to lay off her cloak. It was 
incredible what pleasure it gave him to do these 
little things for her. He left her a few minutes 
to go out and look up the matter of the team. 
When he came back, he found her listening to the 
old woman, who was asking her if she ever hap- 
pened to know John Weldon. 

“ Don’t s’pose you do ; but you go round so 
much, I didn’t know but what you’d come acrost 
him. He’s my sister Ann’s husband. Last J 
heard of him he was in Iowa, somewhere.” 

She talked like a clock. Each word followed 
the other at regular intervals, and without any 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


363 


special emphasis. Ida was really not hearing her. 
She was seeing her. After she went out, Idaf 
turned to Bradley. 

“ Poor soul ! Generations of toil and lonely 
life are in that woman’s mind and body ; and look 
at this room ! The great majority of farmhouses 
I go into are like this : bare walls, with scarcely a 
single beautiful thing in them. Any sober, indus- 
trious person can get a home — like this ! ” she 
ended, bitterly. “ When I was a girl, I didn’t 
notice these things. I don’t think farm-life was 
so hard; anyhow, I had no comparative ideas on 
the matter.” 

‘‘You can come right out to supper!” an- 
nounced the landlady ; and they went out into the 
kitchen, where the table sat. It was lighted with 
a kerosene lamp that threw dull-blue shadows 
among the dishes, and dazzled the eyes of the 
eaters with its horizontal rays of light. The table 
had a large quantity of boiled beef and potatoes 
and butter, which each person was evidently ex- 
pected to hew off for himself. The dessert was 
pumpkin-pie, which they both greeted with smiles. 

“ Ah, that looks like the pie mother made,” Ida 
exulted, as the landlady put it down. 

“ Waal, I’d know. Seems to me the crust is a 


364 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


leetle too short. I’ve ben havin’ pretty good luck 
lately ; but this pumpkin weren’t just the very 
best. It was one of them thin-rinded ones, you 
know. Pumpkins weren’t extry good; weren’t 
thunder enough, I guess, this summer.” 

After supper Bradley went out, leaving Ida with 
the landlady, who was delighted with her listener. 
Ida, however, only sat studying her work-worn 
frame. She could not listen. 

Here’s our team,” called Bradley, coming to 
Ida’s relief a few minutes later. The mistress of 
the house had got launched on a description of 
her sister’s family in Des Moines, and was appar- 
ently good for the ‘entire evening. 

It ain’t a very gay rig ; but it’s the best I 
could do,” Bradley explained, as he helped her in 
and tucked the quilts about her. “ I had to skir- 
mish in two or three houses to get these quilts, 
for the wind is sharp ; you’ll need them.” 

Thank you ; I’m afraid you’ve given me more 
than my share.” 

There was only one seat, and Bradley took his 
place beside Ida, while the driver crouched on the 
bottom of the clattering old democrat wagon. 
Ida was concerned for him. 

“ Haven’t you another seat } ” she inquired. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


365 


“No m’m. I don’t need any,” he replied, in a 
slow drawl. “ I tried to borrow one from Sam 
Smalley, but they’re all usin’ theirs. I’d jest as 
soon set here.” 

There was something singularly attractive in 
his voice — a simplicity and candor like a child’s, 
and a suggestion of weakness that went straight 
to Ida’s womanly heart. She could not see how 
he looked ; only his shapeless hat, which hung 
limply about his temples, could be seen. 

“ Rut you’ll get cold.” 

“Oh, no m’m ; I’m used to it. Half the time I 
don’t wear no gloves in winter ’less I’m handlin’ 
things with snow on ’em,” he said, to reassure 
her. 

They moved off down the side hill to the north, 
the keen wind in their faces. There was no 
moon, and it was very dark, notwithstanding the 
light of the stars. 

“ How beautiful it is to-night ! ” said Ida, in a 
low voice. 

“ Magnificent ! ” Bradley replied ; but he meant 
more than the stars. The team started up, and 
the worn old seat swayed from side to side peril- 
ously. Bradley put his arm around, and grasped 
the end of the seat on the other side. 


366 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


** Fm afraid you’ll fall out,” he hastened to ex- 
plain. She said nothing, and they rode on. 

The driver babbled away in his childlike fashion, 
telling them of his life and the work he was 
doing. He showed that the Alliance education 
had reached him, and that he had found time to 
attend many such meetings, though he could find 
little time to read. 

They climbed the slope on the other side of 
the bridge, and entered upon the vast rolling 
prairie, whose dim swells rose and fell against the 
stars. The roads were frightful — gullied with 
rain, and full of bowlders on the hillside. The 
darkness added a sort of wild charm and mystery 
to it all. 

“ How lonesome it all is ! What a terrible 
place to live ! ” said Ida with a shudder. 

“ Civilization hasn’t made much of an impress 
here, that’s sure. How long has this prairie been 
settled ” he asked the driver. 

“ ’Bout twenty-two years.” 

“ Twenty-two years ! Good Heavens ! It looks 
as if it hadn’t been settled two years.” 

“And these farms are mortgaged, too.^” said 
Ida. 

“ Most of ’em,” said the driver. " But it 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


367 



ain’t s’ bad here as it is out in Lane County. 
They’re all mortgaged out there. I lost a farm 
out there ; I sunk nine hundred and fifty dollars 
out there ! ” 



He said this as if it were a million that he h; 


lost, and he prattled away, 


tragic life — a life of incessant toil and hardship. 
Men cheated and trampled upon him ; society and 
government ignored him ; science and religion 
never knew him, and cared nothing for him — and 
yet he bore it all with uncomplaining heroism. 

There was something in his way of telling his 
story that made the hearts of his hearers ache. 
Ida glanced up at Bradley now and then, at the 
most dramatic points, and they seemed to grow 
nearer together in their sympathy. 

^‘There’s the schoolhouse,” said the driver, 
suddenly pointing at a dim red light ahead. It 
looked to be on the other side of a wide ravine. 
They had been riding for nearly an hour across 
the treeless swells of prairie, and the wind had 
penetrated their very blood. Ida was shivering, 
and Bradley was suffering with her out of sym- 
pathy. Suddenly the schoolhouse loomed upon 
their eyes. It was only a few rods away, but in 
the darkness it had seemed farther. It was a 


368 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


bare little box, set on the wind-swept crest of 
a hill, not a tree to shelter it from the winds 
of winter or the sun of summer. Teams were 
hitched about at the fences, and others could be 
heard on the hard ground, clattering along the 
lanes. Men coming across the fields on foot 
could be heard talking. The plain seemed cold 
and desolate and illimitable. 

Bradley helped Ida to alight, and hurried her 
towards the open door, from which a dull red 
jight streamed and the hum of talk came forth. 
They found the room full of men and women — 
the women all on one side of the room and the 
men mainly on the other, or standing about the 
huge cannon stove, that was filled with soft coal, 
sending out a flood of heat and gas. The people 
stopped talking when they saw the strangers 
enter, and gazed at them curiously. 

Then a tall man, with a military cut of beard, 
pushed his way forward. 

“ Good-evenin’, Sisto’ Wilboo, I’m right glad to 
see you.” 

“ I am glad to see you. Brother Barker.” 

“ I must apologize fo’ not coming myself.” 

“This is Mr. Talcott,” Ida interrupted, intro- 
ducing Bradley, ^ 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


369 


“ Glad to meet you, Brotho’ Talcott. As I was 
sayin’, Sisto’ Wilboo, I was late, and so I sent 
Brotho’ Williams. I am ver sawry ” — 

“Oh, no matter ; we got here.” 

Colonel Barker introduced them to the people 
who stood near. The crowded condition of the 
room did not allow of a general introduction, 
although they all looked longingly at Ida, whom 
they knew by reputation. 

At first glance the effect was unpromising. 
Most of the men had their hats on — the wide 
wool hats of the Kansas type. Most of them 
were fresh from the corn-fields, and their hands 
were hard as leather, and cracked and seamed, 
and lumpy with great muscles. Everybody wore 
cots upon their fingers, which were worn to the 
quick with husking. Everywhere was a certain 
unkempt look, and every where color was in low 
tones : browns, grays, drabs ; nothing light and 
gay about dress or bearing. Bradley noticed a 
few girls in the middle seats, but only a few. 

It looked like an uncouth audience for Ida to 
address. But he suddenly found himself seated 
beside a young farmer in a brown hat whose face 
startled him. He was in rough dress, and his 
hands were mere bludgeons; but his eyes were 


370 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


beautiful and his face very handsome. There was 
a seriousness and delicacy about his face and in 
the tone of his low, soft voice that drew Bradley 
to him. 

“ It’s a cold night to come out to a political 
meeting,” Bradley began, by way of opening con- 
versation. 

“We don’t stop f’r cold,” replied the young 
fellow. “ Some o’ these people are from six or 
eight miles away. They’d go ten to hear Miss 
Wilbur, if they could get in. They won’t be 
able to get in to-night.” 

He spoke with fine directness and force as he 
went on, showing much thought and reading. 
Others joined in, and Bradley soon found himself 
forced to do his best thinking. They were armed 
at all points. 

Colonel Barker called the meeting to order, and 
made an astonishingly able and dignified speech. 
He then asked Brother Williams to say a word. 

Brother Williams was a middle-aged farmer with 
unkempt hair. His clothes were faded to a russet 
brown, and his collarless neck was like wrinkled 
leather, and his fingers were covered with cots ; 
but he was a most impressive orator. His words 
were well chosen, and his gestures almost majestic. • 


A SPOIL OP OFFICE. 


371 


He spoke in a conversational way, but with great 
power and sincerity. Bradley was astonished, 
and said so to Ida, who sat behind him. 

There are hundreds of farmers who can talk 
like that,” she said. “ This is one of the ‘ shock- 
headed farmers ’ the plutocratic press are fond of 
ridiculing.” 

Ida began to speak in a strictly conversational 
tone : “ Brothers and sisters, this is not the first 
time I’ve driven across the Western prairies in a 
wagon to speak at such a meeting as this, and it 
isn’t the last time. I expect to do so just as long 
as there is a wrong to be righted, just as long as 
it does you good to have me come.” 

“ That will be while you live,” said the colonel 
gallantly. 

“ I hope not,” she replied, quickly. “ I hope tbs 
see our reform established before the gray comes 
into my hair. It will be accomplished if we are 
true to ourselves ; if our leaders are true to them- 
selves ; if they do not become spoils of office [she 
looked at Bradley, and the others followed her 
glance ; she saw her mistake, and colored a little 
as she went on] ; if they are true to their best 
convictions, and speak the new thoughts that come 
to them.” 


372 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


Bradley studied their applause to see if it would 
not betray them. It showed that the money 
monopoly was nearest to them, but that any wrong 
received their condemnation. The expression of 
their applause showed nobility of purpose. 

Ida closed by saying: “We have with us to- 
night a very distinguished young Democrat from 
Iowa, — the Honorable Mr. Talcott. He has some- 
thing to say to you, and I will yield the floor to 
him.” 

While the people stamped and clapped hands, 
Ida went over to Bradley and said : “ You must 
talk to them. Tell them just what you think.” 

Bradley rose. He would have done more had 
she asked it. He began by speaking of the 
Grange and its effect, and then passed to the 
Alliance and Reform party. 

“ Tve been studying this question, Mr. Chair- 
man, ladies, and gentlemen, more during the last 
few days than ever before. It is possible that a 
third party is necessary whenever a distinct work 
is to be done; but,” he said, checking the applause, 
“ I am not quite convinced the time has come for 
this movement. If I was, I’d join it, even though 
some of the planks in your platform were objec- 
tionable, for I am a farmer. My people for gen- 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 37^ 

erations have been tillers of the soil. They have 
always been poor. They got nothing for their 
toil. All the blood in my heart goes out, there- 
fore, towards the farmer and the farmers’ move- 
ment. It seems a hopeless thing to fight the old 
organizations, with all their power and money. 
It can be done, but it can be done only by union 
among all the poor of every class. Since coming 
to your State, since day before yesterday, my mind 
has been changed. I suppose (to be perfectly 
candid) that my defeat for renomination had some- 
thing to do with liberalizing me.” As he paused 
he caught Ida’s eyes shining into his, and on a 
sudden impulse he said, “ But no matter ! Now 
I’m with you from this time forward.” He ended 
there, but he stood for a moment numb, and 
tingling with emotion. He had uttered a vast 
resolution. 

The people seemed to realize the importance of 
this confession on the part of the speaker. There 
was a thrilling intensity in the tone of his voice, 
which every listener felt, and they broke out in 
wild applause as he sat down. 

Ida, with her eyes shining and wet, reached for- 
ward over the seat, and clasped his hand, and held 
it. ‘‘ Glorious ! Now you’re with us, heart and 


374 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


soul ! ” In their exaltation it did not occur to 
either of them what a strange place this little 
schoolhouse was for such a far-reaching compact. 

Out under the vast skies again, into the crisp 
air ! Bradley turned and looked back upon the 
little schoolhouse, packed to suffocation ; it would 
always remain a memorable place in this wild land. 
His heart swelled with the pity, the significance, of 
it all. 

“ Oh, you’ve done them good — more than you 
can tell ! ” Ida said. 

“ I begin to believe it is the beginning of the 
greatest reform movement in history,” he said, at 
last. “ They are searching for the truth ; and 
whenever any great body of men search for the 
truth, they find it, and the finding of it is tremen- 
dous. Its effect reaches every quarter of the 
earth.” He was curiously exalted. 

They mounted to their perilous seat once more, 
and moved out into the night. The wind seemed 
to have gone down. There was a deep hush in 
the air, as if the high stars listened in their illimit- 
able spaces. The plain seemed as lonely and as 
unlighted as the Arctic Ocean. Even the barking 
of a dog had a wolfish and wild suggestiveness. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


375 


They rode in silence. Ida sighed deeply. At 
last she said : “ It’s only an incident with us. We 
go back to our pleasant and varied lives ; they go 
back to their lonely homes, and to their bleak 
corn-fields.’" 

“But the Alliance has given them something to 
hope for, something to think of,” Bradley said, 
seeking comfort. 

“Yes, that is the only comfort I can seem td^ 
get out of it. This movement has come into thejp 
lives like a new religion. It is a new religion — ' 
the religion of humanity. It does help them to. 
forget mud and rain and cold and monotony.” C 

Again Bradley’s arm seemed necessary to her 
safety, but this time it closed around her, strong 
and resolute, yet he dared not say a word. He 
was not sure of her. It seemed impossible that 
this wonderful, beautiful, and intellectual woman 
should care for him ; and yet, when he was speak- 
ing, her eyes had said something new to him. 

The driver talked on about his experiences, but 
his companions were silent. Under cover of lis- 
tening they were both dreaming. Bradley was 
forecasting his life, and wondering how much she 
would make up of it ; wondering if she would make 
more of it than she had of his past life. How far 


376 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


off she had always seemed to him, and yet she had 
always been a part of his inner life. Now she sat 
beside him, in the circle ‘of his arm, and yet she 
seemed hopelessly out of his reach. She liked 
him as a friend and brother reformer — that was 
all. Besides, he had no right to hope now, when 
his fortunes had all turned against him. 

She was thinking of him. She was deeply 
gratified to think he had entered the great move- 
ment, and that she had been instrumental in con- 
verting him. Her heart warmed to him strangely 
for his honesty and his sincerity; and then he was 
so fine and clean-souled and strong-limbed ! The 
pressure of his arm at her side stirred her, and she 
smiled at herself. Unlike Bradley, she was self- 
analytical ; she knew what all these things meant. 

“There’s the station,” the driver broke out, 
indicating some colored lights in the valley below 



/ At his word the picture of it all, and the sig- 
kihcance of it all, rushed over Ida — the serene 
majesty of the stars, the splendor and unused 
w^th of the prairies, the barriers to their use, 
the limitless robbery of the poor, in both city and 


country. 


“ Oh, the pathos, the tragedy of it all ! Nature 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


377 


is so good and generous, and men are so ignorant 
and selfish. Can it be remedied ? It must be 
remedied. Every thinking, sympathizing soul 
must help us.” 

Bradley’s, voice touched Ida deeply as he said, 
slowly, “ Henceforward I shall work for these peo- 
ple and all who suffer. My life shall be given to 
this work.” 

A great, sudden resolution flashed into Ida’s 
eyes. She laid her hand on his and clasped it. 
There was a little pause, in which, as if by some 
occult sense, their minds read each other. 

We’ll work together^ Bradley,” she said; and 
the unconscious driver did not see the light caress 
which Bradley put upon her lips as a sign of his 
unspeakable great joy. 


378 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


XXXII. 


CONCLUSION. 


WASHINGTON AGAIN. 


Bradley and Ida went down the hills together 
on the way to the theatre. It was the fourth week 
of the short session of Bradley’s term, and the 
tenth week since their marriage. Ida had re- 
turned with him to stay the winter. They paused 
in the midst of the grounds where the shrubbery 
was ‘^the thickest ; where, to Bradley’s mind, it 
conveyed a faint suggestion of mid-forest. His 
love for nature had intensified during his city life. 
They turned, as they always did, to look at the 
dome. The untracked snow swept in shadowless 
white to the Capitol, which rose out of it hardly 
less white and seamless. The yellow flare of the 
lamps only flung the snow and the marble walls 
into more cold and glittering relief. 

They gazed at it in silence, listening to the 
jingle of bells, the soft, voices of the negro drivers. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


379 


the laughter of children coasting on the winding 
mall, and the roll of carettes. 

“Beautiful! Beautiful!” said Ida. 

“Yes, but I can’t think of it without its antith- 
esis, the home of the working-man and the hut of 
the poor negro.” 

They moved on in silence, arm in arm. The 
darky newsboys, shivering with cold, met them on 
every corner, holding out in their stiffened hands 
their evening papers. “ Styah papah } ” 

“ We hear a great deal about the indolence and 
shiftlessness of the negro,” said Bradley, “but I 
have never met a people more pathetically eager 
to earn a living than these same negroes.” 

Swarms of people loitered along the store 
fronts. Negroes in ragged, faded garments, and 
men with chin beards, in Western or Southern 
hats, went streaming past. The old man with 


cough medicine met them again. They could re 
peat his sing-song cry : doiible- 

ex selly-brated^ Philadelphia cough drops ^ for coughs 
or colds ^ sore throat or hoarseness ; five cents a 
package I' 

They soon struck into the gayer streams of 
people making their way towards the theatre ; and 
when they took their seats on the crowded 
balcony, poverty was lost sight of. 


380 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


“ There ! who says this is not a bright and gay 
world?" said Ida, looking about. “No poor, no 
aged, no infirm, no cold or hungry people here.” 

“This is the bright side of the moon,” replied 
Bradley gravely. They looked around, and stud- 
ied it with a mental comparison with other 
crowds they had seen on the fair prairies of Kan- 
sas and Iowa. There were girls with eyes full of 
liquid light, with dainty bonnets nestling on their 
soft hair ; their faces were like petals of flowers ; 
the curves of their chins were more beautiful than 
chalices of lilies ; their dresses, soft, shapely, of 
exquisite tones and texture, draped their perfect 
bodies. Their dainty fingers held gold-and-pearl 
opera glasses. The young men who sat beside 
them wore the latest fashions in clothing and of 
the finest texture. Heavy men with brutal faces 
slouched beside their dainty daughters, the purple 
blotches on their bloated and lumpy faces show- 
ing how politics or business had debauched and 
undermined them. Everywhere was the rustle of 
drapery and soft, musical speech. 

The curtain rose upon the fair at Nottingham- 
shire ; and with the sweet imaginative music as 
solvent and setting, the gay lads and lassies of far 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


381 


romance sang and danced under the trees in gar- 
ments upon which the rain had never fallen, and 
unflecked with dust. Knights in splendid dress 
of silver and green, with graceful swords and 
sashes, came and went, while the merry peasant 
youths circled and flourished their gay scarfs 
and sang task-free and sin-free. 

The scene changed to Sherwood Forest ; and 
there, in the land of Robin Hood, where snow 
never falls, where rains never slant through the 
shuddering leaves, the jocund foresters met to 
sing and drink October ale. There came Little 
John and Will Scarlet and Alan-a-Dale in glitter- 
ing garments, with care-free brows and tuneful 
voices, to circle and sing. Fadeless and untarn- 
ished was each magnificent cloak and doublet, 
slashed with green or purple; straight and fair 
and supple was every back and limb. No marks 
of toil anywhere, no lines of care, no hopeless 
hunger, no threatening task ; nothing to do but 
to sing and dance and drink after the hunt among 
the delightfully dry and commodious forest wilds 
— a glorious, free life! A beautiful, child-like 
dream-like, pagan-like life I 

As they looked, and while the music, imagina- 
tive, sweet, and persuasive, called to them, a 


382 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


shadow fell upon Ida and Bradley. That world of 
care-free, changeless youth, that world of love and 
comradeship, threw into painful relief the actual 
world from which they came. It brought up with 
terrible force the low cottage in the lonely forest 
of Wisconsin, or the equally lonely cabin on the 
Kansas plain. 

When the curtain fell, they rose and went som- 
brely out. When they reached the street, Ida 
pressed Bradley’s arm. 

“ Oh, it was beautiful, painfully beautiful ! Do 
you know what I mean } ” 

“Yes,” replied Bradley simply. 

“ O Bradley ! if we only could discover a land 
like that, to which all the poor could go at once 
and be happy — a land of song and plenty, with 
no greed and no grinding need ! ” 

“Yes,” Bradley sighed, “ I am afraid you and I 
will never taste anything again that will be per- 
fectly sweet. There will always be a dash of bit- 

/ ter in it.” 

“Yes, we are born to feel others’ cares. The 
worst of it is, we could have that land in America 
f if we only would. Our forefathers thought it was 
coming, but instead of it ” — she did not finish, 
and they walked on in deep thought. 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


383 


“ Yes,” said Bradley, “we could have it ; but the 
way is long and weary, and thousands and millions 
of us must die on the road, I am afraid.” 

As they walked on, Bradley could hear the oc- 
casional deep-sighing breath of the heart-burdened 
woman beside him. Again they passed by the 
cold and stately palace of the government, lifting 
its dome against the glittering sky. The moon 
had swung high into the air, giving a whiter tinge 
to the blue, and dimming the brilliancy of the 
stars ; but it was still beautiful. The crusted snow 
sparkled like a cloth of diamonds, and each snow- 
burdened branch took on unearthly charm. It was 
very still and peaceful and remote, as if no city 
were near. They stood in silence until Ida shiv- 
ered with cold ; then without a word Bradley 
touched her arm, and they walked on. 

When they arrived at their room, Ida sat down 
in a chair by the fire without removing her things ; 
and when Bradley came in from the hall she still 
sat there, her eyes shaded by her hat, her chin 
resting on her palm, her gloves in her lap. He 
knew her too well to interrupt her, and sat down 
near her, waiting for her to speak. 

At last she turned abruptly, and said, “ Bradley, 
I’m going home.” 


384 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


It made him catch his breath. Oh, no, I can’t 
let you do that, Ida.” 

“ But you must ; I can’t stay here. That play 
to-night has wakened my sleeping conscience. I 
must go back to the West.” 

“ But, Ida, you’ve only been here four weeks ; 
I don’t see why ” — 

' Because my people need me. I am cursed. I 
can’t enjoy this life any more, because I can’t for- 
get those poor souls on the lonely farm grinding 
out their lives in gloomy toil ; I must go back and 
help them ; I feel like a thief to be enjoying this 
beautiful room, and these plays and concerts, when 
they are shut out from them.” 

Bradley had a sudden impulse of rebellion. 
“ But we have done our best, haven’t we ? ” 

Yes, but we must continue to do our best right 
along, and I am of no use here ; there’s nothing I 
can do here ; the battle is only half won yet, and 
I’ve enlisted to the end ; besides,” she said, look- 
ing up at him with a faint smile, “ I’ve got to go 
right into your district and pave the way for your 
re-election by the people’s party, you know. If 
you expect to do your part here, I must do my 
part in electing you. We’ve had our vacation, and 
you’ve got work to do which I hinder. I’ll leave 


A SPOIL OF OFFICE. 


385 


you here, and go back. You know how much good 
it does the poor wives and mothers to meet me 
and to hear me. Now, we mustn’t be selfish, dear; 
you’ve got your work to do here, and I’ve got my 
work to do there.” 

They sat in silence again. Bradley looked at 
the fire; there was a burning pain in his staring 
eyes ; his throat hurt him. To be left alone in 
this way was hard, and yet he saw it was consist- 
ent. When he spoke again, it was in his appar- 
ently passionless way. “All right, Id^; we 
enlisted for the whole war.” He was able to smile 
a little as he looked up at her. 

She rose and came to him, and put her arm 
about his neck. “As a matter of fact, you’ll fight 
better here without me, and then at the end of 
your term, when you come home, there will be two 
years that we can work together.” 


THE END. 


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